


My Money's on an Intergalactic Cock-Up

by theplatinthehat



Series: The Unicorn Frappucino AU [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: But today is not that day, M/M, i deffo had fun with this though, keep an eye out for where it disappears without a trace, one day i will write a fic about the intergalactic travels of said frappucino, so i hope you enjoy it too, there are so many original characters i am so sorry, they're thematically relevant ok?, this is pretty bonkers so hold on tight, unicorn frappucino - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplatinthehat/pseuds/theplatinthehat
Summary: It's a fairly ordinary morning at Aziraphale's bookshop when two time-travelling friends stumble back into his life. What should be a fun meet up between four friends turns into something far more sinister when Crowley is kidnapped in broad daylight. Aziraphale, Donna and the Doctor are left racing across space to try and find him before time runs out.We are Team 043 in the Good Omens Big Bang 2019!Writer: moi!Artists:biteinsaneandQuandtuniverseBeta (and the person wrangler we did not deserve):picnokinesis
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, The Doctor & Donna Noble
Series: The Unicorn Frappucino AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610098
Comments: 128
Kudos: 272
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, Good Omens Big Bang 2019, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What's up guys? Missed me (or just this AU)? Well, I'm very excited to have the chance to return to this universe, and I had a whole load of fun writing this story. This was written as a part of the Good Omens Big Bang 2019 - and there has been some amazing work produced for that with you should definitely check out.
> 
> I'm going to be posting a chapter a day until 31st January - so keep your eyes peeled!

Space is mostly nothing.

Honestly.

There’s a reason it’s called space. Because most of it is empty.

_Well that’s boring! What’s the point of that?_

But here’s the thing. The empty space _is_ pretty boring. And _that_ is what makes the parts that aren’t nothing so much more _incredible_.

Here’s a spectacle for you. Come and see.

Look!

It’s near the heart of the solar system. A blue and green marble suspended in the silence of space. A planet that teems with life; in the water, on the land, in the air.

The people call it Earth.

A lot of great stories begin on Earth.

Look closer. Continents roll into view. Pick a point, any point. An island? Good choice.

Look closer. A city – a sprawling metropolis splaying out around a river. Towers punch up from the ground; metal fingers daring to reach up and tear holes in the clouds. A modern-day Babel in the making. But divisions of language are hardly a problem these days.

Closer still? Alright, take your pick. A neighborhood. A street. A bookshop.

Ah.

Here’s a scene that may be familiar.

An angel is sitting at a desk, reading a book. There’s a cup of cocoa, steam rising and curling in the warm morning light that streams through the window. The shop is, thankfully, empty of customers.  
Aziraphale would hate to have to chase them out – he’s been having such a nice day.

He turns the page with a soft smile. He’s read this one before so he knows what’s coming. But humans and their _words_. They really are so clever.

The wind picks up outside.

That isn’t unusual in itself; the wind is a regular visitor to the back alleys of London.

But there’s something else with it.

A groaning sound, like a thousand gears grinding together in ethereal harmony. Aziraphale looks up, brow furrowed. He _knows_ that sound. But where?

And the penny drops.

His eyes snap wide open and he dashes to the window to watch a large blue box materialise in the alleyway. A grin spreads across the angel’s face. He can’t help it.

They came to visit after all.

He grabs his coat and dashes round the back, arriving at the doors just as two figures step out of the box; one tall and skinny, the other shorter and ginger.

“Doctor! Donna!” he greets, with a wide smile and open arms.

“Hello, Aziraphale!” the Doctor answers, throwing his arms around the angel. “How are you? How long has it been?”

“I’m very well, thank you, Doctor. And it’s been far too long.” Aziraphale turns to Donna, “You look lovely, Donna. How are things?”

“All the better for seeing you,” she smiles, giving the angel a hug of her own.

“No, but seriously, how long has it been, Aziraphale?” the Doctor asks, seizing the angel’s shoulders. “I’m trying to recalibrate the TARDIS engines and I really could do with knowing when we last saw you.”

He stops to consider this for a moment. “It must be at least three months. I can work it out more accurately if we go inside.”

“No, no – three months is fine,” he replies, releasing his tight grip and dusting off Aziraphale’s coat.

“I _told_ you that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“You spilt _tea_ all over the console of a vessel that uses very complex calculations to navigate through space and time. Forgive me if I was a little cautious.”

“It wasn’t very _much_ tea. And the TARDIS has been through much worse and made it through the other side to tell the tale.”

The pair of them are about to descend into a full-on bickering match. Aziraphale coughs.

“Is this a flying visit then? Will you be popping off now that you know the engines are working?”

“Nah! Thought we’d hang around a bit – catch up with our favourite angel and demon.”

“That is, if you’re not too busy?” Donna asks.

Aziraphale smiles, leading them inside, “Of course, not! What an _excellent_ excuse to close the shop. Come in, come in. I can make you some drinks – more tea?”

Donna agrees to tea emphatically, but the Doctor mutters something about tea being more trouble than it’s worth. Water, then. The Doctor settles himself down on the sofa, stretching himself out in a way reminiscent of Crowley. Donna stands in the doorway and watches the angel bustle around the kitchen.

“I see you got the hellhound scratches out of the floor.”

“Ah yes. That took a bit of a miracle to sort out. Although not as much of a miracle as Crowley’s flat – what a _mess_.”

Donna laughs, clearly remembering the state that it was in when she last saw it. A mess was putting it mildly for sure.

“And how is Crowley?”

“He’s very well, thank you.” The kettle boils and he pours out a cup for the human. His cocoa should still be warm enough to drink.

“He’s not at the bookshop today?” she asks, as they walk back into the main room. The Doctor sits up as they approach and gratefully takes the water offered. The angel takes a sip of his own drink before answering.

“He doesn’t _live_ here you know,” Aziraphale laughs. “No, he’s been out of town for a few days – some business or other, I find it best not to ask. He should be back now. I’ve been meaning to meet with him. Perhaps I should give him a ring?”

“Perhaps you should,” the Doctor says, flinging his legs back up onto the tartan sofa. Donna rolls her eyes at his bad manners, but Aziraphale doesn’t mind.

Resolved, he heads over to the telephone and dials in the number to Crowley’s flat. As the line rings he beckons to Donna – what a lovely surprise for Crowley to hear from his friend and partner-in-crime.  
The line connects and Crowley’s answering machine blares through the handset.

_“This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”_

“Hello, Crowley! It’s Aziraphale, although you probably knew that as soon as I started talking didn’t you, hahaha. Anyway, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He hands the phone over to Donna who takes it with a huge smile.

“Crowley! Remember me – it’s Donna! The Doctor and I are in London and Aziraphale is here, but you aren’t which I think is _very_ rude and – ”

Her humorous rant is halted by the demon picking up the phone. “Donna! How _are_ you? Please don’t tell me the Doctor’s been kidnapped again.”

“Thankfully not. We just wanted to see you two.”

“And recalibrate the TARDIS engines,” the Doctor adds, not wanting to be left out. Donna swats her arm in his direction to tell him to shut up.

“Well as Aziraphale probably told you, I’ve been out of town. But I am free today – we could all have a quaint little rendezvous.”

“Did you have anywhere in mind?”

“How about St. James’ Park?” Aziraphale suggests. “We can feed the ducks and then go on to find somewhere to eat.”

“Sounds perfect, angel. See you there in ten minutes?”

Aziraphale stares down at the steaming cup in his hand.

“Make it twenty. I’ve got a few things to finish up here.”

“Alright. Talk later.”

“See you, Crowley!” Donna yells with a grin as he hangs up the phone.

Aziraphale immediately bursts into a hive of activity. Cocoa is drunk, books are shelved and ornaments rearranged. As he flurries around the shop, he talks to himself – ticking off the various jobs to do on his mental list.

“Oh, but we’re going to feed the _ducks_ and I don’t have anything to give them.”

The Doctor frowns, turning to address Donna with a lazy wave of his arm. “Did I mention that it travels in time? I’m _sure_ I said it travels in time. I _distinctly_ \- “

“What the Doctor is _trying_ to say is that you can take as long as you need, and then we’ll hop into the TARDIS, travel back a few minutes, and still get there in plenty of time.”

“Oh well isn’t that _marvelous_. You mean I’d have time to re-organize the Whitman too?”

The Doctor pouts. “Technically you have all the time in the world.”

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

Donna links her arm through Aziraphale’s. “Only that he can’t sit still for more than five minutes. Come on – what are we getting for these ducks?”

Doctor elects not to go with them to get duck food, and promises that he’ll busy himself with fine-tuning the calibration of the TARDIS instruments. Donna rolls her eyes, and tuts about the state it will be in when they get back.

The pair of them amble down to the local shop where they furnish themselves with corn for the ducks (bread, they had recently discovered, was not the healthiest choice for their beloved waterfowl). They pass by a Starbucks on the way back, and Donna can’t help but run in and grab a unicorn frappuccino. Aziraphale raises a quizzical eyebrow at luminescent drink.

“Crowley will understand,” she replies with a conspiratorial wink.

The Doctor is not pleased by the appearance of the drink after such a traumatic experience.

“No, no, _no!_ That thing is not coming anywhere near my console.”

“Oh, calm down. This one’s got a _lid_.”

This fact is not enough to satisfy the Doctor, so he guides Donna by the shoulders (gently, mind) to stand at a safe distance from his precious equipment.

“Where do we sit?” Aziraphale asks, glancing round the TARDIS.

The Doctor and Donna just laugh.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just… well, we’re never really in here long enough to sit down,” the Doctor explains. “We run in, take off, land, and run out again. Not much need for seats.”

“Yeah, but you also think there’s very little need for food. It doesn’t mean you’re right,” Donna quips from her appointed spot.

The Doctor begins flipping levers and switches with over dramatic flourishes. The engines groan, and the disc in the central column starts to plunge up and down.

“I’d grab a hold of something if I were you,” the Doctor warns before pulling one final lever.

The angel does as he’s told, and not a moment too soon as the whole room lurches to one side. A cry of surprise escapes Aziraphale’s lips, but it dissolves into a laugh of delight in no time. He had thought that there was no vehicle that could be more exhilarating than Crowley’s Bentley.

He was wrong.

Still wasn’t a patch on flying though.

And then they slam to a halt, the sound of the engines fading with one final toll. It reverberates through the ship like a bell.

“And we’re here!” the Doctor announces, swinging on his coat and racing to the TARDIS doors.

“So fast?” Aziraphale asks, following in his footsteps. “Can we really have travelled in time?”

The Doctor stops at the door, leaning in as if to tell Aziraphale a particularly important secret. Aziraphale can’t help but lean a little closer. He wants to drink up every word of this impossible man.  
“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” he says with a little grin and he pulls the doors open.

Sunlight bursts through the doorway and Aziraphale steps outside. There’s grass beneath his feet and the wind reaches down to tug his hair. He spins around, taking in the sights of St James’ Park. The lake, the ducks, the panorama of the central London skyline. The sound of bells fills the air; Big Ben, chiming on the hour.

On the hour.

But he was still in the shop…

Aziraphale’s hand flies to his mouth to cover his shocked expression.

“We’ve travelled in _time_.”

“I did _say_.”

“I’ve never done that before. I’ve always had to go the long way. All 6,000 years of it.”

Donna steps out of the TARDIS and shuts the door with a firm tug.

“Is he freaking out?” she asks.

“No. He’s taking it remarkably well.”

Aziraphale is – his slack-jawed shock has turned into a wide smile. He turns to the Doctor.

“One question.”

“Just the one?”

“Does this mean there’s now two of me wandering around London?”

“Yes, it does,” the Doctor replies with a rub of his neck. “But it’s a closed system. The past you will end up here so that’s fine. Just don’t go looking for yourself.”

“Why not?”

“It’s possible that the universe might explode from the paradox.”

Aziraphale’s face falls.

“Well, it might _not_. But I think we’ll all agree it’s best not to risk it.”

The angel nods.

“Look!” Donna shouts, pointing across the lake. “It’s Crowley!”

She’s right. Crowley has heard her shouting and is waving back. He’s too far away to see clearly, but Aziraphale can picture his wide grin clear as day.

Donna holds up her cup. “I got you something!”

They watch as Crowley doubles up with laughter. Aziraphale resolves to ask him about this particular in-joke later.

The demon signals that he’s going to head round to meet them, and they follow suit – hoping to meet in the middle. There’s smiles and jokes and laughter, and Aziraphale knows this is going to be a very entertaining day.

It’s when they reach the bridge that it happens.

Crowley is walking towards them when he’s approached by a figure in silver and green. They stop to share a few words, but Crowley is shaking his head and seems determined to evade them.

“Anyone you recognise?” Donna asks.

“Not a clue,” Aziraphale replies.

Should he know? He’s sure he would recognise an angel, even if it were just by their angelic presence. And there’s no demonic energy other than Crowley’s own.

No. This is something else entirely.

There is a rapid exchange of gestures. Crowley points in their direction. The figure doesn’t even turn look. They lurch forward and seize Crowley’s arm. The demon’s cry of surprise is enough to force the angel into action.

“Let go of him!”

The figure whips round in shock. Their eyes are wild, desperate and an unearthly electric blue.

“Aziraphale!”

There’s a blinding white light.

And once it has passed, there is only empty space where the pair of them had been standing.

Crowley is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No time to waste - come on, come on!
> 
> Featuring an incredible illustration by the highly talented [biteinsane!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biteinsane/pseuds/biteinsane)

It takes mere seconds for the Doctor to leap into action. Before Aziraphale can fully comprehend what he’s just seen, the Timelord is racing down the bridge to the point where they stood and is scanning the surroundings with his sonic screwdriver.

“Come on, come _on_ ,” he chants through gritted teeth.

Donna and Aziraphale hurry over. Aziraphale can’t help but be taken aback by how nonchalant all the humans around them are.

“Did they not just _see_ what happened?” he asks.

Donna shrugs. “They probably think it’s another Derren Brown trick.”

The buzzing of the sonic screwdriver is replaced by a single loud _bleep_. The Doctor holds the device to his face with a frown.

“Gotcha! Teleport system. Probably to a craft in orbit. I’ve never seen this type of residual signature before. It’s seems to be… no… that’s not possible…”

“What’s not possible, Doctor?”

He shakes his head and looks at the pair of them. “It doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is that it’s unique and…” the Doctor leans towards the pair of them with a smile, “I can trace it. Come on!”  
And with that, he sprints in the direction of the TARDIS. Donna hurries after him, still clutching frappuccino.

Aziraphale just stands there in a state of shock.

Donna runs back and grabs the angel’s hand.

“Come on! Or we’ll lose them,” she chides, pulling him along behind her.

Their feet pound against the pavement as they race back to where they left the TARDIS. She looks equal parts out of place, but completely at home, nestled amongst the trees of the park. As they approach, the TARDIS doors swing open.

The Doctor is already inside, punching calculations into the TARDIS console.

“I just need to input the teleport signature into the sensor mainframe. If I do it fast enough then – “

He doesn’t finish his sentence as the computer burbles at him in binary. His face lights up.

“Yes, _yes_. There’s a ship in orbit.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Donna shouts, pushing the doors shut. “Let’s go!”

“Hold on to something!”

Aziraphale doesn’t need telling twice.

Donna stumbles over to the console, by some miracle (metaphorically speaking) managing not to tumble to the floor.

“How long?”

“Almost there. We should be landing now.”

A bell rings out around the room. It’s a warning. Or a death knell.

“No, no, _no!_ ”

The room lurches violently, and all three of them are thrown to the ground.

“What’s happening, Doctor?” Aziraphale asks, helping Donna up.

The Doctor scrambles to his feet and pulls the screen close to his face.

“It’s gone,” he whispers.

His expression… it’s almost as though he can’t quite comprehend it.

“What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean, _gone_.”

“But you can trace it, Doctor?” Donna asks, “You track spaceships all the time.”

“No. It’s _gone_. I can’t see it on the sensors.”

“What? Nothing _at all?_.”

Aziraphale’s face crumples.

_Crowley._

“Donna, I – “

“Don’t you ‘Donna’ me. I’ve seen you do much more impossible things than track a spaceship that’s vanished off your sensors.”

“But – “

“No buts! I’ve seen you cure yourself of cyanide poisoning. I watched you stop a generations-long war with a few words. You set the _sky_ on fire to save the world. I know you’ve done all these things, and because of them I _know_ you can get Crowley back.”

“I don’t know _how_ ,” the Doctor insists.

“Then use that big brain of yours and think of something!” she shouts. Aziraphale can’t help but wince slightly. “Reverse the polarity, or scan for dark matter or, or, or widen the frequency band,” and with the last syllable she smacks her free hand down on the TARDIS console.

There’s a loud _zing!_ followed by a series of beeps. The Doctor turns his attention back to the screen.

“Widen the frequency…” he trails off, finding a new train of thought at Donna’s outburst. “No!” he cries, jumping on the spot, “Not widen – narrow it down.”

He twists some knobs and there’s a quick succession of _bloops_.

“There it is!”

The TARDIS engines kick back into action, and the room starts to lurch about again.

“What did you do?” Aziraphale asks, tightening his hold on the edge of the console.

“I narrowed the frequency range down to a tighter bandwidth based on the readings I took at the park. That filtered out enough of the background noise to see interference on other dimensional planes. The ship is partially _out of shift_.”

Aziraphale raises a quizzical eyebrow at Donna.

“It’s operating in a partially different dimension.”

“Oh, I see! Like heaven?”

Donna smiles, “I’ll have to take you word on that. I’ve never been.”

Aziraphale turns back to the Doctor, who seems to be endlessly modifying the TARDIS instruments. “So, you’re able to trace this interference?”

“Yes! It’s quite unique. I’ve set the TARDIS to follow the strongest trail, as logic dictates that’s the most recent, and we should be arriving…”

The engines come to a halt and the room stops its merry dance.

“… right about now.”

“Where are we?” Donna asks.

The Doctor taps at his keyboard and pulls up some information. “A planet known locally as Melbus. Breathable atmosphere, good. Slightly more advanced technology than Earth. Great food according to this TripAdvisor rating.”

“They have Trip Advisor out here?”

“TripAdvisor _started_ out here. Shall we go and take a look?”

Before he’s even finished his sentence, the Doctor is running towards the door. Donna ushers Aziraphale out after him.

They step out into a vision of orange, red and purple. It’s a marketplace, bustling in the heat of the midday suns (yes, suns plural, Aziraphale notes). Much like the marketplaces of Earth throughout the centuries, it’s packed full of people, goods and _smells_. The stallholders appear human, and it’s only the exotic fruits, clothes that gleam like precious stones and the occasional six-legged dog that reminds Aziraphale that he’s on a different planet.

A gasp escapes his lips; he stumbles slightly.

He’s on a different _planet_.

Surely, he must be dreaming?

There’s a hand on his shoulder, gentle and affirming. It’s Donna. She holds her drink out to him.

“Here. You look like you could do with a good pick-me up.”

“What even is it?” he asks, taking a sip of the bright drink. Aziraphale can taste sugar and coffee, but there’s definitely pleasant undertones of other sweet delicacies.

Donna shrugs. “I’m honestly not sure. But you looked a little unsteady on your feet, and _that_ ,” she gestures to the cup, “will sort you out in no time.”

She’s right. The dreamlike fog that had crept on him unbidden was already scattering to the far corners of his mind.

“I take it this is your first time on another world?”

Aziraphale considers this. Technically _Earth_ was his first time on a new planet (and it really had been new back then). But did heaven really count as a world of its own? It was certainly his home for a while.

“In a way, I suppose,” he replies.

Donna smiles, as though she understands his inner turmoil. He remembers what Crowley said about Donna, after their first adventure together. How something about the human stripped him right back to his very soul. She turns to face the sky, and basks in the warmth of the twin suns – hair aglow in their bright light.

“How are you used to all this?” Aziraphale asks. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this.”

She laughs. “I’m not. I kinda just smile and see where each day takes me. But with the Doctor, I can guarantee it will never be boring.”

The Doctor, seemingly at the mention of his name, pops out from behind a stall – sonic screwdriver held in front of him, buzzing furiously.

“I _had_ it – how can it be gone now?” he mutters to himself.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” Donna asks with a raised eyebrow.

He turns the device off and gives it a shake, before holding it close to his ear and listening again.

“Something’s interfering with the sonic. Can’t pick up that signal. Maybe it’s a local block?”

The Doctor holds the sonic up and activates it again. A lock slides open and the door to a cage drops open with a _clang!_. A flock of pink geese seize the opportunity of a lifetime and make a run for it, pecking and snapping at people as they make their great escape. A chorus of shouts, screams and honks go up as they dash through the market. The Doctor shoots an apologetic grimace in the direction of the stallholder, who just stares slack-jawed at the spectacle. Donna, sensible enough to know _not_ to hang around a great goose escape, herds her companions away from the ruckus and into a quieter side street where they can stop and think.

“What’s the plan, Doctor?”

“I… don’t have one.”

“You’re not being very helpful today.”

“Hey! Everyone’s entitled to an off day every now and again!”

“Not today, you’re not! We need to get Crowley back!”

“Oh, like I didn’t know that. Thanks, Donna!”

“Oi, watch it, spaceman!”

“Please, can we calm down!” Aziraphale begs, raising his voice before the exchange can descend into something altogether more unpleasant. The last thing they need today is for the Doctor and Donna to fall out.

The two of them scowl at each other, before turning to face Aziraphale.

“Right, what do we know?” the angel asks, hoping that by pooling information they can actually come up with a workable solution.

“Admittedly, not a lot.”

“Doctor!” Donna snaps.

“ _Please!_ ” Aziraphale begs, holding his hands (and drink) up. “Anything could be useful.”

“I’ll start with the obvious then,” Donna replies, folding her arms. “Crowley is gone, and we seem to have lost him.”

“Not totally!” the Doctor protests. “We still _have_ the signal readings. I just can’t seem to trace them here.”

“Why is that?” Aziraphale asks, turning to the Doctor hoping to begin getting some answers.

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be standing here,” he scowls, an unpleasant sarcastic tone rising in his voice.

The angel bites back a retort. They’re all stressed and upset at Crowley’s disappearance, but shouting insults at one another just won’t help one bit. He takes a deep breath.

“Can’t we track something _else_?” Donna asks with a harrumph.

_Something else? Perhaps… just perhaps._

“Not with the sonic. And I expect we’ll be having a similar problem with the TARDIS. Something’s definitely causing a block. But I’m stumped for what it is.”

“So, there’s nothing we can do?”

The Doctor opens his mouth to respond, but Aziraphale cuts in.

“No. There’s nothing _he_ can do. I think I can track Crowley myself - or his demonic energy at least.”

Donna’s eyes widen in recognition. “When I was with Crowley, he was able to track your angelic presence when we were in Hell,” the phrase tripping off her tongue as if she was reminiscing a particularly lovely holiday. “You think you can do the same thing?”

“Yes - although I must admit I’m a little out of practice.”

Donna smiles. “Then I suppose there’s no time like the present!”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and reaches out with his angelic senses. It’s a trick he hasn’t needed to use for a long time. Things had been different at the start. He’d always probe a city for demonic energy before entering, checking that it was safe. Best avoid an awkward discorparation at demon’s hands if possible – think of the _paperwork_. But ever since he and Crowley had set up shop in London (quite literally in his case), he’d not needed to push this ability far; what was the point when the other was only ever a few miles away.

And by then, he wasn’t worried about his demonic counterpart trying to kill him. He’d had plenty of opportunities to do so, and all Crowley had done was lay the start of the Arrangement on the table, and miracle up a crowd for Hamlet.

There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach.

_There!_

The angel’s eyes snap open. Donna smiles.

“You’ve found him?”

“I can sense demonic energy. Close by.”

“How close?” the Doctor asks, looking around wildly.

Aziraphale reaches out again, the dark energy suddenly flaring up. “Very close. Wait,” he frowns.

“What is it?”

“It’s getting closer. Closer!”

The crackle of demonic energy is electric now. A shadowy figure in a hood and cloak plunges down the alleyway, shoves Donna to one side, before taking off again.

“Oi! Watch it, mate!”

The energy begins to fade.

“That’s him!” shouts Aziraphale, beginning to race after the figure. “Crowley!”

“What?” the Doctor asks, looking up in confusion.

“Come on! Or we’ll lose him again!”

Donna grabs the Doctor’s hand, and pulls him after the angel. They run through street after street, hot on the heels of the figure clad in black. The demon is determined to throw them off, ducking under carts, vaulting over tables and swinging between stalls to try and lose them.

 _What the Hell is he playing at?_ Aziraphale thinks to himself, as he narrowly avoids a stack of crates that miraculously lost their balance at his approach. He throws out his arm, sending a miracle of his own in their direction to right them once more.

The chase continues.

The angel and demon work up an impressive pace, leaving the Doctor and Donna far behind. Aziraphale can feel himself tiring – he doesn’t run as much as he should. The last time he ran like this, the walls of Hell were falling around his ears.

But he doesn’t stop. He will _not_ lose Crowley.

In the end, it’s the demon that slips up. Aziraphale spies the tail of their dark cloak ducking into a side street and puts on a burst of speed to match.

There’s no need – it’s a dead end. The demon stares at the wall, back turned to the angel, considering options.

“Come now, Crowley. There’s no need to be like that. It’s just me.”

Donna and the Doctor come thundering around the corner, hand in hand. Not just him then.

The demon’s shoulders tense.

“It’s just Donna and the Doctor. Come on, my dear. We’ve found you. We can go home.”

The demon turns, and pulls down their hood. Waves of blonde hair come tumbling from beneath the fabric, snaking around their shoulder.

“Who are ya? I don’t _know_ ya. Who the heaven’s Crowley? An’ what d’ya want from _me?_ ” the demon demands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta blame it on a goose!
> 
> Believe it or not, I actually had this chapter written well before the release of Untitled Goose Game! Life imitates art. 
> 
> Chapter 3 tomorrow - see you then :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New planet, new friends; but they're still terrified of management. (or, Aziraphale has a little too much fun)

Green eyes, bright and wide as a cat’s, stare back at Aziraphale.

The poor creature is terrified. Aziraphale reaches out what he hopes is a comforting hand. The demon hisses and claws unsheathe themselves from beneath her fingernails. She backs into the corner, and makes herself as small as possible – wrapping herself up in her cloak. The Doctor puts a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and pulls him back.

“You’re scaring her.”

“I’m not meaning to.”

“I know. May I?”

Aziraphale nods, and takes a step back to stand with Donna.

The Doctor moves to crouch between the angel and the demon. Not close enough to scare her, but enough to talk quietly.

“Hello,” he introduces himself gently, “my name’s the Doctor. These are my friends, Donna and Aziraphale. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

The demon hisses in contempt. She’s clearly heard that one before. The Doctor, used to such a reaction, holds up his hands and giving them a twist to show they’re empty.

“Look – unarmed, see? I don’t want to hurt you. What’s your name?”

She seems torn, unsure of the alien’s trustworthiness. Aziraphale can’t really blame her. If the roles were reversed, he’s sure his reaction would be much less dignified.

“Azza,” she mutters. “My name’s Azza.”

The Doctor smiles. “Lovely to meet you, Azza. If you don’t mind me asking – what’s a demon like you doing on Melbus?”

“My job.” She sniffs, and stands up straight. “Downstairs opened up regional offices on new planets after the botched-up Earth Apoca-do-dah.” Azza looks past the Doctor’s shoulder, and addresses the angel. “Tha’ were you, right? You an’ your boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” Aziraphale admits with an amused smile. “We’re looking for him – Crowley I mean. Have you seen him?”

Azza sniffs again, and pulls the cloak a little closer round her shoulders. “Ain’t no demons here ‘cept me – I should know. Ain’t been any other angels neither, ‘cept Zahariel.”

“Is Zahariel a friend?” the Doctor asks.

Azza bites her lip.

“Not supposed to be friends. Hereditary enemies an’ all that.”

A wary smile is toying at her mouth. Aziraphale recognizes it. He knows how it feels on his own lips.

“But there’s an understanding? A trust?” the angel presses.

The smile is gone, and her guarded expression is back. “No, nothin’ like that. Just… just…”

“Go on,” the Doctor presses.

“They asked me to meet ‘em. Today. Now. Figured I’d go along an’ see what was up. But then I sensed more angelic energy than normal an’ – “

“ – and you thought that Zahariel had double-crossed you?”

Azza nods.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear girl. I must have given you such a fright.”

Azza nods again, but her stance has relaxed; claws retract back into her hands.

“Can you help us look for Crowley?” the Doctor asks. “We traced him to this planet, but we seem to have lost him. Something’s blocking the signal.”

“What d’ya want me to do about that?”

“Well… nothing really. We just want information. Anything you know could be useful.”

“Well, I don’t know nothin’. An’ besides, I’d get into trouble for even speakin’ to him,” she looks pointedly at Aziraphale.

“Might Zahariel know?”

“Yes. Maybe… wait – no! I don’t know!”

She brushes past the three of them towards the busy street, but pauses for a moment.

“I’m sorry about ya friend. I really am.”

As the demon steps away, Donna takes a hold of her wrist.

“Please, Azza. We really need to get him back. He could be in danger.”

“An’ I _will_ be in danger if I get caught cavorting with your types. Do-gooders – I can smell it on ya. No, sorry, can’t help ya.”

The demon pulls out of Donna’s grasp, but doesn’t make it two paces before the human asks. “Then why are you going to meet an angel? Surely that’s the _exact_ opposite of what you should be doing?”

Azza freezes. Aziraphale holds his breath. Donna has her attention now – this is the moment.

“You’re already breaking one rule. What’s the harm in… bending another?”

Azza doesn’t answer.

“Look. How about we come with you to see Zahariel? I can tell you’re still thinking it might be a trap.”

“An’ what could you possibly do if it were?” Azza snaps. “A human? A retired angel? An’… whoever you are…”

The Doctor just tuts, throwing his arms in the air in mock surrender at the universe.

Donna smiles. “Let’s just say we have experience in this area.”

The demon isn’t sure. Donna extends her hand – a gesture of friendship.

“We’ll protect you; I promise. And if we get caught, just say you were trying to lure us into a den of iniquity, or something.”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor says with glee, “Love me a good den of iniquity.”

Azza laughs. It’s a hearty laugh. It suits her. She takes Donna’s outstretched hand and shakes it.

“Alrigh’. You’ve got yaself a deal.”

The demon opens up to Donna after that. The two of them walk together, hand-in-hand, with Azza pointing out her favourite parts of the city. Vendors that serve the best food. Stalls to get the brightest flowers. Alleys that are _particularly_ good for a quick temptation. Aziraphale and the Doctor follow on behind, listening to the other two chatter away.

“How does she do it?” Aziraphale asks.

“Do what?”

“Appeal to the better nature of demons? Of everyone?”

The Doctor smiles. “Donna can’t help it. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

The four of them emerge into a huge plaza. The floor is an immense mosaic, depicting the twin suns and the pagan gods of this planet’s belief system. Aziraphale’s thoughts turn back to first century Rome. A hot summer’s day. A cool beaker of wine. The saltshuck of oysters, licked from his fingers. Crowley’s horror, and then approval, of the seafood dish.

Ancient history; somehow echoed here on a planet millions of miles away.

Things really do turn in circles.

“Zahariel!” Azza shouts, spying a figure all in white sitting in the shadows on the far side of the plaza.

The angel glances up at the sound, their black hair falling in front of their eyes. They squint into the light, and raise an eyebrow at the demon’s eager waving. They stand and march over to Azza and Donna, jaw clenched. There’s an exchange of words. Azza lowers her head, almost in shame. Donna folds her arms and gives the angel a good telling off, which causes them to drop what they were holding in surprise. It rolls over to Aziraphale’s feet.

It’s a screwdriver.

He picks it up, and then he and the Doctor move to join the others. They can hear the start of an argument forming. The Doctor looks at Aziraphale with an amused quirk of an eyebrow.

Typical Donna.

“Look,” the words becoming clear as they meet the group, “you can’t invite someone to meet you, and then tell them off for actually _turning up_.”

She puts an arm around Azza’s shoulders, who looks like she’s struggling to hold it together.

 _How undemonic,_ Aziraphale can’t help but think.

The angel, Zahariel, looks flustered. Aziraphale isn’t surprised – no angel could ever be prepared to face a severe dressing down from Donna Noble.

“I’m not _upset_. I’m just telling her how _stupid_ she is for showing her face anywhere near me when there’s extra angelic energy on the planet. I have _no_ idea who it is, and I have no particular desire to get in trouble for something as idiotic as associating with a demon.”

Unlike the demon, Zahariel hasn’t even attempted to match the local fashions. They look very out of place in a white leather jacket and jeans combination. Miraculously (probably literally this time), there’s not a speck of the orange dust that pervades the planet on any of their clothing – not even on the shoes.

Aziraphale wants to tut at the frivolous use of miracle energy, but the back of his brain supplies a meticulous and chronological list of _all_ his frivolous miracles throughout the ages and decides to keep his mouth firmly shut.

“Then why wait at the rendezvous, huh? If you _really_ didn’t want to see Azza you just wouldn’t have turned up at all.”

Zahariel starts to stammer something about blessings and the greater good, but Aziraphale steps forward and holds out the screwdriver.

“I believe you dropped this.”

“Huh? Oh. Thanks.”

The angel reaches for it without even giving Aziraphale a second look. It’s only when their fingers brush his palm, and that telltale _zing!_ of angelic energy passes between them, that they look up with panicked eyes.

“Hello!” Aziraphale grins, with a cheery waggle of his fingers.

There are forty-three muscles in the human face. These can be used in combination to express a variety of emotions. Happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, fear – wait, isn’t this the character list for _Inside Out_?

Anyway.

Angels are supposed to be cool, calm and composed at all times, which tends to manifest itself as an emotionless glare. They have the power of Heaven on their side, so there’s no real reason for them not to be. 

Zahariel does not look cool, calm and composed at _all_. In fact, the best description for the emotion that races to their facial muscles is sheer, bloody panic.

“Oh, uh, um – hi! I wasn’t expecting anyone from Head Office so soon!” Zahariel greets brightly.

“I – uh – “ Aziraphale starts, but Zahariel’s anxiety gets the better of them and they start babbling.

“Oh, you were just passing? That’s quite alright. Welcome to Melbus. I’ve been working very hard, as you can probably feel – lots of miracles and blessings already,” they say, throwing their arms wide to gesture to the whole plaza. This action reveals a small egg-shaped device that fills the angel’s palm.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale asks, curiosity and a thirst for knowledge getting the better of him again.

Zahariel’s eyes widen, hiding the device behind their back, “It’s uh – it’s… uhhh.”

The Doctor steps behind the angel and plucks it from their hand. “Hmm, looks like a transient sub-processer for warp drive. What are you doing with one of these?”

“I can explain,” they reply, snatching it back.

“I hope you can. And is this a _demon_ I can see here?”

“Oh yes!” Azza supplies helpfully. “Big demon, me!”

“I – I – I – “

“Oh, come off it, you two,” Donna says, “You’re scaring them half to death. You always said you hated it when Head Office checked up on you, Aziraphale.”

Zahariel rounds on their fellow angel with nothing short of righteous fury. “ _Aziraphale!?_ The one who cancelled the Apocalypse?”

Aziraphale sighs, and straightens out his waistcoat, “Surely there must be something else of note that I’ve done. The number of commendations I have in my filing cabinet…”

“What _are_ you doing on Melbus? I could get into serious trouble just talking to you. And I don’t have any supernatural beings of immense power on my side to get me out of a tight spot.”

“Ya got me!”

“Be quiet, Azza!” Zahariel turns back to Aziraphale. “Why are you here? And why are you hanging out with a human and… whoever he is?”

“No respect these days,” the Doctor mutters before Donna gives him a gentle elbow in the ribs.

“We’re looking for Crowley. He was kidnapped and – “

“You _lost_ a demon?”

“Not on purpose. We were in St. James’s Park, you see – “

“I’ve heard enough. You need to leave. I’ll pretend I never saw you, and I’d appreciate it if you pretended you never saw me. Come on, Azza. We need to go. _Now_.”

“Aww, ok,” Azza beams, whilst being roughly manhandled by Zahariel. “Bye, Doctor. Bye, Donna. Bye, Aziraphale! Hope ya unblock ya signal!”

The angel freezes.

“You’re having trouble with signals?”

“Yes,” the Doctor replies. “Are you?”

Zahariel nods, “Everyone on Melbus is. It’s been a nightmare. I’ve been trying to trace the source with this.” They hold out the sub-processor.

“You’re trying to trace a signal with _that_?” the Doctor scoffs. “Good luck.”

“Well, not exactly. I’ve hot-wired the transient circuits to form a rudimentary receiver. It won’t tell me what’s doing the blocking, but I figured that if I could at least pick _up_ any signals that I’d be in with a chance of finding out where things are going down.”

The Doctor smiles. “That might just work,” he concedes.

Aziraphale frowns. “Why are you wasting time on searching for signals when you could be out there performing blessings?”

Zahariel crosses their arms and gives Aziraphale a withering look. “Are you _seriously_ going to lecture to _me_ about how to do my job?”

Aziraphale holds his tongue. Zahariel just sighs.

“Look at it this way. The signal being blocked is putting everyone on edge. Nerves are frayed, tensions are high and people are so much more likely to _sin_ at the moment. There’s a very low-level fog of evil around the whole planet – one that I can’t combat by myself.”

“Like Crowley said about the M25,” Donna says.

Aziraphale nods, remembering all Crowley’s plotting about the London Orbital. Zahariel was right – it’s impossible to battle evil on that scale as the lone heavenly representative on a planet. They’d have to nip the cause in the bud.

“What have you discovered so far?”

Zahariel looks around nervously. “I don’t know. Not much. Not sure I want to discuss it with you.”

“We can help, Zahariel,” Donna offers, putting a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, the Doctor and I do this sort of thing all the time.”

“What? Battling for the souls of everyone on a planet?”

The Doctor smiles and cocks his head, “Once or twice. I’m also a whizz with gadgets. And this…” he trails off, taking the subprocessor back from the angel, “is, quite frankly, genius. It’s just not working.”  
Zahariel’s shoulders droop. “I know. I can’t quite figure out what’s wrong with it.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t look so sad. You’ve done brilliantly to get this far. And if I do this…”

He pulls the sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket, gives it a fancy little flip (prompting a groan from Donna) and buzzes the angel’s device. All of a sudden, it lights up and emits a shrill _beeeeeeep!_. The Doctor passes the subprocessor back to Zahariel, who receives it with cupped hands and an expression of absolute awe. They look up at the Doctor.

“Oh. Thank you,” they breathe.

“Least I could do.”

Zahariel looks around.

“Ok. I’ve decided to trust you. I think we might be able to help each other. But not here.”

“Ah,” the Doctor replies, sensing the angel’s nervousness, “perhaps this is something we could talk about somewhere a _little_ less public?”

“Somewhere with food, perhaps?” Donna asks.

Aziraphale’s stomach grumbles at the mention of food. When _had_ he last eaten?

“Oh, oh, I know somewhere!” Azza offers, jumping up and down in glee that she can be _helpful_.

“Well then, why don’t you show us the way?”

The demon seizes Donna’s hand, dragging her back into the hustle and bustle of the market. As she’s pulled away, Donna shoots the Doctor a fond smile. It’s not every day a human gets well and truly adopted by a demon. The others follow in their footsteps, winding through side streets until they reach a shifty-looking spot that smells like it’s serving something _divine_. They pick a table in the shade and sit.

While Donna and Azza order, the Doctor and Zahariel strike up a conversation about the device they were fixing in the square. He discovers that the angel has developed something of an aptitude for alien technology.

“I know it’s frowned upon by corporate to indulge in physical pleasures,” the angel confesses, “but it’s just so satisfying to fix broken things. I’m not really very good at fixing broken souls. But give me a dodgy plasma coil, or a damaged vortex inducer – I can mend them every time.”

“It’s hard to exist in a physical form and not want to partake in the activities associated with it,” Aziraphale says. He hopes it’s of some comfort to the young angel.

They sigh. “It’s just… oh, I shouldn’t really say. Not to you.”

“You can tell me,” the Doctor says, leaning in conspiratorially. “And I don’t think Aziraphale is going to tell anyone.”

“Quite. In case you haven’t heard, I’m not on the heavenly pay-roll anymore.”

Zahariel looks around to see if anyone else is listening. Azza and Donna are arguing with the vendor about payment. Everyone else is too busy going about their daily business to worry about the secrets of three strangers in peculiar clothing.

“I’m thinking about opening a mechanic shop.”

Aziraphale’s first thought is that this dream won’t last long unless Zahariel ditches the white clothes for something a little more practical. Not that he knows a great deal about practical, but he’s certain that engine oil and white jeans are not a happy combination.

But then he sees the earnestness in his fellow angel’s eyes. He remembers catching a glimpse of that expression before. It had been 1799. He’d been strolling through Soho when an empty shop on a street corner caught his eye. He had been toying with the idea of opening a bookshop for years by that point and this had felt like a divine nudge. He’d caught a glimpse of his face in the dusty window.

Yes. Zahariel would open their mechanic shop.

And he would encourage them.

“I think that’s a splendid idea!”

“You do?” 

The angel seems awed that their idea has not been cast carelessly aside.

“I have a bookshop on Earth. It’s an _excellent_ way to blend in, and establish oneself as a celestial agent on a planet.”

“What’s this about celestial agents?” Donna asks, putting a tray of cartons on the table. Azza is right behind her, clutching what appears to be chopsticks with misplaced enthusiasm.

“Nothing important. What is it?” the Doctor asks, passing cartons out to everyone.

It smells gorgeous; reminiscent of the food Aziraphale had favoured during China’s Han dynasty. He takes a delicate sniff and can make out notes of chestnuts and bamboos shoots. But the staple of this dish is not rice, as he had expected, but instead a vivid purple pulse that he cannot put a name to.

“’S called Urna,” Azza explains. “Staple meal ‘ere on Melbus. Never actually tried it before, so tha’s excitin’!”

“Why is it purple?” Aziraphale asks as the others dig in eagerly.

“Why shouldn’ it be?”

Zahariel doesn’t touch their’s ( _Why would I want to sully my body with mortal food?_ ), but listens as they explain their situation.

“So,” the Doctor concludes, “Azza thought you might be able to help us.”

“Did she?” the angel asks, giving the demon a sidelong look. Azza is too engrossed in her food to notice, or even care.

“Well,” Donna asks, “can you?”

“Short answer; no. And I really shouldn’t. Helping an ex-angel locate a demon really does fall outside my remit.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. Another one well and truly wound up in the rules. A few centuries as a mechanic will knock that right out of Zahariel.

“But,” the angel continues, “I think I know someone who might.”

“And you’re willing to take us?” the human asks, sounding as surprised as Aziraphale feels.

Zahariel nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Azza was originally called Zapados, and Zahriel was originally called Articuno.
> 
> Yeah, that was a fun few weeks for my beta! (cheers, Taka - between that and the commas I don't know how you edited this fic)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can get the help you need - but only if you complete this simple sidequest!

“Zahariel, you take us to all the nicest places,” Donna quips, as she jumps around a suspiciously coloured puddle.

Their walk to Zahariel’s contact has taken them to the heart of the slums of Melbus. Rubbish lines the streets, foul smells clog the air and strange shapes move in the shadows. Azza warns the group not to stare at them for too long.

“What are they?” Aziraphale asks the demon.

She shudders, and pulls the cloak a little closer round her shoulder. “Nothin’ good.”

“We’re here,” Zahariel announces, stopping outside what looks like an abandoned warehouse. The angel instructs them to wait there before disappearing into the gloom.

“I don’t like this, Doctor.”

The Doctor shoots Donna a sympathetic glance. “I don’t think we’ve got much of a choice right now.”

While they wait, a little girl in a red jacket peeps out from around a corner – eager to catch a glimpse of their strange band. The Doctor gestures for her to come and say hi, but she turns and flees. Longing twists in Aziraphale’s chest. Crowley would have been able to coax her out. He bites his lip and tries to keep himself together – but not knowing what’s happening to his demon is driving him to the brink of insanity.

There’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s Donna’s.

Of course, it is – whose else would it be.

“We’ll get him back, Aziraphale. I swear it.”

He covers her hand with one of his own. “I believe you, my dear.”

Zahariel reappears in the doorway.

“Roxo will see us. Follow me.”

The concrete floor is wet. Aziraphale catches a glimpse of his reflection as he walks. It’s completely distorted – a view through a dark lens into an even darker universe. Flickering fluorescent tubes hang high above their heads; they cast strange flashes in the puddles. Maybe it’s a message to the mirror universe. Perhaps it’s just random chaos.

The space is immense, but is even more notable in its emptiness. There is space enough for at least twenty of the ramshackle dwellings they passed on the way to this place. What does that say of Roxo – to leave such a place barren when it’s in the centre of a city where room is clearly at a premium?

It’s not totally empty. In one corner an array of tables, benches and screens are set up. Bright lights – lights that do not flicker – are arranged so that nothing is in darkness. Every inch of the workspace can be seen. As they approach, Aziraphale can make out the shapes of wires and coils, gears and cogs. An engineer.

No wonder they’re a friend of Zahariel’s.

A leather-clad figure is bent over the carcass of some kind of vehicle – what sort, Aziraphale can’t even guess. The technology is miles ahead of that Earth. There’s an unholy screech and sparks fly from the metal, raining down like a shower onto the floor. They reflect in the smoked glass of the figure’s mask. Zahariel signals for them to wait.

Roxo takes his time. This is his world; this is his space. He’s got the power here. And he’s going to wield it.

After what feels like an eternity, Roxo finishes his work and pulls up his mask.

“Zahariel tells me you want information.”

“Yes,” the Doctor replies, stepping forward. “Hi, I’m the Doctor. This is – “

Roxo holds up a hand. “Zahariel has told me who you are, and what you seek. You understand, this comes with a price?”

“A businessman, I see.”

Roxo shrugs humbly. “We do what we must to survive here.”

“Yeah, well it looks like you’re doing just fine.” The Doctor shoves his hands in his pocket, and begins to swagger – he is the smartest man in the room after all. “All this space with nothing in it. If you were really out for profit, you’d rent this out. Or sell it. You’d make a shedload for sure.”

“Money cannot get you everything. This space is adequate for my needs.”

“Then what’s the price for this information?”

“That depends on what you’re willing to pay.”

“Anything,” Aziraphale says, stepping forward. He’s fed up of this dance between the two men. They’re wasting time and _Crowley is missing._ “We’ll pay anything.”

Zahariel sighs, and rubs their eyes.

Roxo laughs, the sound of it echoing maniacally around the empty warehouse. He sounds delighted, like Aziraphale has just told him a particularly good joke.

“Anything? Now that’s a hefty price to pay. Needless to say, I accept your offer.”

“Now wait – “

“No, _you_ wait, angel.”

Aziraphale gasps. “How do you know what I am?”

Roxo gestures towards Zahariel with a tick of his head. “Zahariel has told me what they are. You have the same energy about you. And you…” he says, turning on Azza, “you are similar. But opposite perhaps?”

Azza hisses, but does not answer him.

“Interesting,” he says with a smile.

The Doctor steps forward. “So, what’s your price then, Roxo?”

“Tut tut, so eager, Doctor. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were desperate.”

Aziraphale looks towards the Doctor with wide eyes. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Roxo.

“You _are_ desperate. And desperation, well that comes with a price.”

“Just tell us what you want,” the Doctor spits, his patience beginning to run thin.

“The Calcyon Ruby.”

Zahariel gasps, “You can’t be serious. You _know_ where that is. That’s a death sentence.”

“What’s the Calcyon Ruby?” Donna asks.

“It’s a gemstone of immense power. Believed by the ancient peoples of the Vax’ryn Cluster to be capable of powering a whole solar system. Said it was the heart of a long-dead god.” The Doctor raises his voice slightly to address Roxo, “But the Calcyon Ruby has been missing for decades. No-one knows where it is.”

“That is no longer true. Your friend here knows where it is – why don’t you ask them?”

Zahariel looks positively miserable. “It’s in the private collection of Baron Joris Hacklymb – a warlord from Botha people.”

The Doctor nods. “The Botha, yes I’ve heard of them. Nasty bunch – their cruelty is well-known throughout the galaxy.”

“Yes, well he’s retired now, and keeps himself occupied by taking the treasures of other cultures. By any means necessary.”

“And he has the ruby?”

They nod. “Acquired it a few months ago. There’s been a lot of chatter. People are worried.”

“With good reason.”

“Hacklymb’s collection is based on Rouga,” Roxo explains. He grabs a small device from a workbench, much like one of Earth’s smartphones, and throws it to the Doctor, who catches it deftly with his left hand. “All the information you need about Hacklymb and his collection are on there. Don’t even bother trying to access any of the higher-level functions or encrypted files – they’re deadlock sealed.”

The Doctor frowns.

Roxo shrugs. “Your reputation precedes you, Doctor. And I am not a man that takes chances.”

“I can see that,” the Doctor replies, pocketing the device. “Thank you for your help.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Roxo chuckles. “Now leave me. I have work to do.”

With their audience over, Zahariel leads them back into the slums. The light of the two suns is overwhelming compared to the gloom of Roxo’s workshop. Aziraphale finds himself wishing for a pair of sunglasses, and is pleasantly surprised to find a pair of Crowley’s in his pocket. The sunglasses were astonished to find themselves in Aziraphale’s pocket as only moments prior they had been strewn, somewhat carelessly, across the sofa in the back room of the bookshop from the last time the two entities had shared a bottle (or three) of wine. The angel settles them on the bridge of his nose, and feels very pleased with himself for a moment or two.

“Well that was probably the single most stupid thing anyone has said in the history of creation!”

Oh well. The satisfaction was nice for a few moments.

“Calm down, Zahariel. I thought it was awfully romantic,” Donna comforts with a pat on the angel’s shoulder.

“No, they’re right – it was a foolish thing to say. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Downright moronic, more like,” Zahariel snaps. “What price are we willing to pay? ‘Anything’, he says. Just brilliant! And now what do we have to do? Retrieve one of the most sought-after gemstones this side of the Andromeda Galaxy. And where is it? Oh yes, it’s in the house of a megalomaniac warlord everyone’s afraid of, which is on _another planet_ by the way. So no, Donna, I’m not going to calm down.”

“Ah the planet bit’s easy!” the Doctor says with a bright smile, looking up from the device Roxo gave him. “Roxo’s given us the coordinates on this. The TARDIS will have us there in a flash. Come on!”

They find the TARDIS, via only three wrong turns, and pile inside the blue box. Azza takes to the whole affair like a duck to water, but Zahariel is a little more suspicious.

“What do you mean it travels in time? In a non-linear manner? And it’s made of wood. It’s impossible for it to travel through space without severe complications. You know, like your death and our inconvenient discorporation.”

“Not impossible,” the Doctor snorts. “Just highly improbable. Now make sure to hold on tight.”

Aziraphale pats Zahariel’s hand. “Just go with it, my dear. I can assure you it does what they claim.”

“Have a little faith,” Donna says with a grin, over their shoulder. “You’re an angel, you should be good at that.”

They grind their teeth and take hold of the console, “This is going to be a nightmare to explain to Head Office.”

“Can I help?” Azza asks, bursting with excitement.

“Of course,” the Doctor says with a smile. “Pull this lever, but only when I say, ok?”

The little demon nods enthusiastically and takes her position.

“Everyone ready?”

There’s a murmur of assent.

“In that case – Azza!”

She yanks the lever with a laugh.

“Allon-sy!”

The TARDIS deposits them on a rocky outcrop high above Hacklymb’s complex, the stones bleached almost white by the harsh sunlight. The wind whips around them, tugging at their hair and their clothes. The sky above them is green and Aziraphale can’t help but stare at it in delight.

_Green sky._

Oh, if only Crowley were there to see it too.

The complex sprawls out beneath them, a sleek set of buildings made of metal and glass. People wander between them in pairs and threes. There are trees, gardens even. It’s surrounded by a moat, and from this distance Aziraphale can make out dark shapes moving in the water. Space seals, perhaps?

It seems innocuous. Innocent, almost. Surely not the place for such a fearsome man?

“It looks undefended,” Donna muses, standing next to the Doctor. He’s consulting Roxo’s device.

“Then appearances are deceptive. According to this, the place is armed to the teeth. Guards, laser blasters and – “ he picks up and rock and throws it with some force towards seemingly empty space. The space convulses and the rock shoots back violently, skimming past the Doctor’s face. “And a very powerful forcefield.”

“Great!” Zahariel cries, throwing their hands up in defeat. “Now what?”

“We think of a plan,” the Doctor says, ushering the other four to gather closer. “Now, what do we know about this guy?”

“ ‘E’s a ruthless, selfish megalomaniac wiv a generous helpin’ of egotistical pride?” Azza offers with a smile.

“Right, I’m going to be straight with you, Azza. You really shouldn’t say things like that with a massive grin on your face,” Zahariel says, folding their arms.

“Why not? Those are all wonderfully irredeemable qualities.”

“Egotistical maniac, that’s good,” the Doctor repeats, taking back control of the conversation. “Very wealthy, we know that. Bit of a dramatic flair if the moat is anything to go by.”

“What’s even in there?” Donna asks.

“Would you believe me if I said they were very large koi carp?”

“No.”

“Then it’s probably best not to dwell on it,” he replies. “Now – what would a wealthy, egotistical and very dramatic man want to do with all the things he’s ‘acquired’ from planets and cultures around the galaxy?”

“Hoard them,” Zahariel mutters.

“Nuh-uh, I know!” Azza yells, hopping from foot to foot with excitement. “ ‘E’ll wanna show ‘em off! Betchya they have tours of the place. Ya know – so other rich folks can come ‘n see!”

The Doctor regards the demon with a smile. “Very good, Azza. I think we might be able to work with that. What do you reckon, Donna?”

“I reckon that’s not a problem at all.”

Aziraphale believes them.

Zahariel doesn’t.

“Have you not been listening to yourselves at all? This is madness. What are we going to _do_?”

The Doctor flashes the angel a wicked grin, pulls a wallet from his pocket, and asks just one question.

“Fancy a tour?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, thinking about the last set of chapter notes - if you're ever really bored you have my permission to copy and paste this into Word and replace Azza with Zapados, and Zaharial with Articuno. It's a good giggle if nothing else.
> 
> And Aziraphale, that is really romantic but highly impractical!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are made, problems are solved and miracles are frivolously used.

“I’m very sorry Dr and Mrs Noble but I’m afraid you’re not on my list of tours today. Are you sure there hasn’t been some kind of mistake?”

It’s not the most convincing apology Aziraphale has ever heard. Indeed, it strays on the side of “I’m not that sorry because clearly _you’re_ the one at fault here, but social decorum and my intensive customer service training insists that _I_ apologise for this,” rather than, “Oh dear, clearly there’s been a terrible mix up. Are you sure you haven’t got the wrong date/time/bookshop?”

But that’s not the bit the Doctor and Donna choose to argue with.

“Ah, um, no, we’re not – “ the Doctor starts, with a shake of his head.

“ – we’re not a couple,” Donna finishes, waggling her finger. “No way. Not ever.”

“Well,” the assistant says, with a determined nod and a firm tap on her tablet, “I’m afraid that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not on the list for today. I’m sure you understand, but security protocol insists that I cannot let you onto the complex.”

She’s tired, Aziraphale can tell. Who wouldn’t be? Wobbling around on silly heels all day, in a purple skirt and blazer that appear to be designed for style rather than comfort, dealing with silly things like missing deliveries, the wrong sort of apple juice and uninvited strangers.

“Well Mrs, sorry I didn’t catch your name,” the Doctor says, reaching for his psychic paper.

“Mrs Petton. I’m Baron Hacklymb’s personal assistant. At least, when he’s in residence.”

“Ah right, so,” the Doctor says, waving the paper in her face, whilst sonicking the tablet with his other hand, “you must know everything about the ins and outs of this place, then.”

Mrs Petton smiles, puffing her chest out slightly at the recognition of her skill and service. “I daresay I do. Nothing happens here without my knowledge.”

The tablet goes _ding!_. A notification.

“Ah, would you look at that!” Mrs Petton says, scrutinizing the screen. “You _are_ on my list after all. My goodness, you’re cousins of the Baron! I didn’t realise that he had family. Well, why didn’t you say so? Please, come this way. Your staff too.”

Ah yes. The staff. That was the role Aziraphale, Zahariel and Azza found themselves relegated to in this grand heist. Azza was the only one that didn’t seem upset by the whole affair. Zahariel was nervous beyond belief, and kept reaching to play with things in their pockets.

“Ah, we promised the Baron that we’d do things properly – make sure protocol is followed and all that,” Donna explains, lying through her teeth with the ease that only a well-versed liar can manage.  
The Doctor picks up the thread she’s left for him (they’re both very well-practiced. How many parties they’ve crashed together, Aziraphale can only guess).

“Yes, he’ll be very pleased to hear protocol is being followed. Come along, staff.”

The two angels resist the urge to roll their eyes, but follow dutifully. Azza bounces along up ahead.

“I don’t like this,” Zahariel whispers.

“The plan in general, or something more specific?” Aziraphale hisses in reply. “I fear we’ve gone too far to back out now.”

“Well the plan, if you can call it that, is _insane_ but…”

“But what?”

Zahariel stops, shifts on their feet and looks towards Azza. “Her. I can’t help but feel… she’s too innocent. She shouldn’t be here. She’s too _young_.”

“Too young to be a demon?”

“Yes! I feel like I’ve got to look out for her, and that must be wrong with that because she’s from – “

Aziraphale puts a hand on their shoulder. “Being concerned for someone, even if they’re from the other side, is hardly a sin. I think She would approve of such kindness.”

Zahariel smiles. It’s the first genuine smile he’s seen from the angel. “Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“What’s the problem, you two?” the Doctor calls. The four others have stopped up ahead, well over the moat now and almost at the door of one of the buildings. The two angels hurry over.

“Sorry about that we were just discussing the uh – itinerary,” Aziraphale fibs.

It’s an acceptable excuse and soon they find themselves let into the heart of Hacklymb’s private collection. Mrs Petton guides them through the cases, pointing out the highlights and explaining some of the more colourful acquisition stories. The Doctor and Donna ask all the right questions, prying as much information from the assistant about security, whilst maintaining the cover of mildly inquisitive relatives. Aziraphale and Zahariel remain silent, and dedicate most of their energy into keeping Azza from climbing on things that _definitely_ shouldn’t be climbed.

Demonic wiles had certainly changed from when Aziraphale had first started out, but he found he was expending just as much effort thwarting them.

They approach an imposing wooden door. Mrs Petton pauses for a moment, resting her hand on the golden door handle, as if catching her breath before meeting someone incredibly important.

“And this,” she gushes, “this is the soul of the collection. This is the Ruby Room.”

She pushes the door open, and they spill inside.

There’s only one case here. Of course, there is. It’s the Ruby Room – there’s no need for anything else to be here. The case is bathed in light that pours in from the glass ceiling. Above them, stars twinkle in the darkening sky.

“And this, of course, is one of the Baron’s most recent acquisitions – the Calcyon Ruby.”

The Baron himself stares down with a fierce glare from an immense portrait at the furthest end of the hall.

“It’s beautiful,” Donna breathes.

Beautiful is not the word for it; it’s not even close. But there is no other word. There are so many words in creation, and not one of them – not even a collection of them – could sum up the sheer, awesome _wonder_ Aziraphale feels blooming in his chest as he admires the gemstone.

It hovers in the centre of the glass case, held up by powers or technology Aziraphale can’t even begin to guess at. It rotates mid-air, never allowing the viewer to see it from a single side for more than a moment. The gem is a deep, deep red, and light shines off every cut of the stone.

_No. Wait._

The light doesn’t shine off the stone. The light comes from _within_ the stone itself. Aziraphale leans in closer to watch as sparks dance in its heart. They burst out, but their energy is wasted as they hit the confines of the gem before fading away. The process repeats itself infinitely – and he finds himself completely hypnotized by it.

“It’s exquisite,” Aziraphale marvels, and the Doctor hums in agreement.

Azza presses her face to the glass, and wrinkles her nose. “Bit small innit?”

Zahariel pulls the demon away from the case, and wipes away the frosty breath mark before Mrs Petton can notice. Thankfully, she’s too busy admiring the portrait of Baron Hacklymb at the far end of the hall.

“Doesn’t make it any less powerful,” the Doctor mutters.

 _“Though she be but little, she is fierce,_ ” Aziraphale quotes.

“I remember the first performance of that. It was very good.”

The angel frowns, “I don’t recall seeing you there.”

“I was a stagehand. And I had a different face back then.”

“Ah.”

“Stop with the Shakespeare and _focus_ ,” Donna hisses. “Or are you having second thoughts about getting Crowley back?”

“Sorry, you’re right.” The Doctor whips out his glasses to get a closer look at the ruby.

Donna turns to Mrs Petton. “What keeps it floating like that?”

“Ah,” the assistant says with a smile, “that’s supposed to be a secret. I really shouldn’t say.”

“But we’re family,” Donna shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m sure Joris wouldn’t mind you telling us.”

Mrs Petton giggles. “Well, I suppose you’re right. It’s a rapidly-oscillating electromagnetic stabilisation field – we’re all very proud of it.”

The Doctor nods in recognition. “The electromagnetic fields keep the ruby afloat, but the random permutations of the fields keep it rotating. All self-contained in a cylinder of Salaxian Crystal by the looks of things. That’s very clever. Bit flash though? Surely a conventional levitation display would suffice?”

“Do you really think that the Baron would settle for something ‘conventional’?”

“No, I suppose he wouldn’t.”

“Besides, the technology does have other benefits.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale finds himself asking. “Such as?”

“Well, it has a built-in fail-safe. If the ruby is removed from the field, the device sends out a deadly electromagnetic pulse that would immediately fry the brainstem. Goodbye to any thief that _dares_ cross the glorious Baron Hacklymb.”

Azza is the only one who doesn’t look crestfallen at the news.

“Migh’y efficient!” she squeaks. “Does it do anythin’ else?”

Mrs Petton starts to go into more detail for the demon, who eats up her words with wide eyes and a hungry mind.

The other four gather round to discuss this latest revelation.

“Well, I could grab the ruby,” Aziraphale offers. “It would discorporate me, but at least it wouldn’t kill me.”

“That’s a terrible idea, Aziraphale – you _know_ Head Office won’t be handing you a new body. I’ll do it.”

Donna frowns. “Nobody is getting discorporated!”

“Besides,” the Doctor adds, “who’s to say it won’t fry _all_ of our brainstems?”

“Oh, that’s just brilliant. Anyone else got a cheery addition?”

“I think we need to come back.”

“Come back?” Zahariel gasps, leaning in to make sure they are _definitely_ not overheard. “Are you out of your _mind_? This place is crawling with security measures and there’s no way we’d get back in again – even with your TARDIS. We’d be toast before we made it three steps.”

“Well what do _you_ suggest?” the Doctor bites back.

Aziraphale sighs and steps away, their understanding of the alien technology whizzing way above his head. He stares at the ruby morosely. The key to getting Crowley back; so close, and yet so far. He’s beginning to understand the fate of poor Tantalus. Azza comes and stands next to him, apparently exhausted of questions to ask of Mrs Petton.

It would take a miracle to get the gemstone out of there.

 _“A miracle,”_ he mutters to himself.

Azza cocks her at his words. There’s a sly grin on her face. He returns it. There was only ever one way of getting the Calcyon Ruby out, and the demon knew it all along.

“Mrs Petton, I have something of an odd request.” His tone of voice is all wrong. It’s forced; nervous – a puppet on a string. The others turn to look in his direction, wondering what on Earth he’s playing at.

“I aim to please. How can I help you?”

“Well, I was just wondering, if it isn’t too much trouble, whether you’d let us go with the Calcyon Ruby? It’s such a little thing, and I really think that Joris would want us to have it – we have more use for it than he does. Such a shame to let it go to waste.” As he speaks, he feels the power of a miracle infusing with his words.

Mrs Petton pauses.

_Please let it be enough._

Opens her mouth, face a picture of confusion.

_Please._

The confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, Mr Fell. I’d be delighted to oblige.” She taps a hidden panel in the wood of the case. The glass withdraws and Mrs Petton plucks the crystal tube from the display, handing it over to the angel. Aziraphale takes it with care, pretending it’s a first-edition book – rather than a device that has the power to fry his mind.

“Am I correct in thinking that the failsafe has been switched _off?_ ”

“Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, you’ve been very helpful, my dear. Now, why don’t you go and have a lie-down? You’ll wake up having dreamt of something you like best.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

And with that, the assistant wanders off in a dream-like state to the nearest sofa, where she enjoys a thoroughly refreshing nap and dreams of kittens on rollerskates.

Aziraphale turns to the others, tube held out in his hands. They stare on in shock, jaws hanging slightly agape.

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t sure that would actually _work_.”

“I can’t believe I just saw that,” Zahariel mutters.

“Seeing is believing, my dear. And you definitely saw _that_. Now, what are we going to do with this?”

“We can put it in the Doctor’s pocket!” Donna offers, “They’re bigger on the inside.”

“Not _that_ much bigger!” he protests.

“Big enough for a clockwork mouse,” she mutters.

“A _small_ clockwork mouse.”

Zahariel ignores their bickering, and miracles up a bag. Aziraphale deposits the tube gratefully. The angel hands the bag over to the Doctor, who shoulders it with a grin.

“I think it’s time we were off!”

They follow the Doctor through the labyrinthine halls of the complex. How the staff are able to navigate around the place without sophisticated GPS is anyone’s guess. But then again, people say that about Aziraphale’s book arrangements and _he_ never has a problem laying a hand on a book when desired. Perhaps it was just something they got used to.

Nevertheless, the Doctor somehow manages to lead them through the maze and out of the doors to the courtyard. Now it’s just a short walk across the bridge and out through the gates and they’re home free.

Aziraphale smiles.

They’ve done it. They’ve done the impossible.

A shadow swoops above them. It’s a small shuttlecraft – nacelles blazing blue against the green sky.

The smile fades.

“What’s that, Doctor?” Donna asks, instinctively leaning closer to her friend.

“Nothing good. Come on – let’s get out of here. Don’t run, any of you – that will only draw attention to us. If we’re lucky we’ll make it out of here before they land. Quickly!”

The five of them set off at a pace which they hope resembles a calm yet brisk stroll, but would be more accurately described as a mildly-distressed powerwalk. The ship lands just outside the gates, and a troop of guards run to greet it. The door opens and a figure steps out onto the surface of the planet. There’s an exchange of salutes, and the contingent marches towards the complex.

Aziraphale runs the calculations in his head. There’s no way they can make it past in time.

The Doctor stops, and anxiously twists the straps of Zahariel’s bag.

_What do they do now? ___

__The contingent breaches the forcefield, approaches the gate._ _

__“Doctor…” Donna warns._ _

__“I know, I’m thinking.”_ _

__They’re through the gate now. Aziraphale can make out more details on the figure. He’s exceptionally tall, with a shock of snow-white hair. He’s dressed from the neck-down in tactical gear, but a long fur-lined cloak gives the air of royalty, of affluence, to the man._ _

__He’s carrying an enormous gun. It’s even bigger than Shadwell’s thundergun._ _

__“Is that…?”_ _

__Zahariel nods. “It’s Baron Hacklymb.” They’re trying to hide it, but they’re very afraid._ _

__What man is this, that even angels fear him?_ _

__Hacklymb stops, the soldiers falling into ranks around him with weapons armed._ _

__“Who are you?” the baron purrs. There is no other way to describe the way he speaks; it’s like the silksoft of velvet in the dead of night. “And what is your business here?”_ _

__“Baron Hacklymb,” the Doctor greets, arms wide like they’re long-lost friends. “How have you been? It’s been a while since we last spoke but we were in the neighbourhood, and thought we’d stop by.”_ _

__“Who are you?” he repeats._ _

__The Doctor pats himself down and produces his psychic paper, flipping it open with a flourish. “I’m the Doctor. This is my companion – “_ _

__“Companion?” Donna hisses._ _

__“ – Donna Noble, _your _second cousin, three times removed - ”___ _

____“I’ll remove _you_ in a minute,” she snipes._ _ _ _

____“ – and these are our staff,” the Doctor gestures vaguely in the direction of the other three. “But you weren’t here and unfortunately our shuttle will be leaving soon, so we can’t stay. Another time maybe?”_ _ _ _

____The baron turns to face Donna, who gives him an uneasy smile. “A cousin, eh? Well why didn’t you say so? I would have shot you on sight.”_ _ _ _

____They all freeze. This was _not_ the reaction they had expected at all._ _ _ _

____Hacklymb laughs. “Give up this pretense. I have no family.”_ _ _ _

____“What, none at all?” Aziraphale asks._ _ _ _

____“Not a single member. I had them all killed. Inheritance law is frightfully dull, and if they’re all dead – there’s no fear of them bumping _me_ off for my extraordinary wealth.”_ _ _ _

____Donna gapes. “You killed them all, out of _greed?_ ”_ _ _ _

____“Call it what you like, sweetheart,” he replies, cupping her face in his hand. She jerks away, but he clamps down on her shoulder and forces her to look at him, “But yes. I killed them. Like I’m going to kill you once you tell me what you’re doing here.”_ _ _ _

____They fall silent. An answer – true or false – would likely mean a swift death. Better let the Doctor think of a way out._ _ _ _

____The baron’s eyes roam around the group, landing on the bag the Doctor is clutching._ _ _ _

____“Ah, you paid a visit and thought you’d leave with a souvenir!” He rips the bag from the Doctor’s grip. “Let’s see if you have good taste.”_ _ _ _

____He opens it and pulls out their spoils. His eyes lighten up in surprise._ _ _ _

____“But how – ?” Hacklymb shakes his head, quelling his questions. Best not appear _too_ surprised. “I will be having words with Mrs Petton about this.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t,” Aziraphale says, stepping forward. “She didn’t have a choice in this. I – uh – controlled her mind. She won’t remember doing it either.”_ _ _ _

____Hacklymb regards the angel with interest. “Mind-control, eh? Well that’s one thing I never considered. I suppose I should thank you for pointing out this… oversight in my defenses. Now,” he sighs, “what am I going to do with you?”_ _ _ _

____He looks Aziraphale up and down. “A mind-meddler is far too dangerous to keep alive for long,” he pushes Aziraphale towards the closest guard. “Take him out of here and shoot him.”  
“No!” he cries, trying to wiggle his way out the tight grip he finds himself in._ _ _ _

____He turns to Zahariel, “What about you?”_ _ _ _

____Zahariel regards Hacklymb with a silent glare. And then a moment later they’re on the floor, clutching their face where Hacklymb has slapped them. “Kill this one too.”_ _ _ _

____Donna steps towards the Doctor, but Hacklymb pushes her away. “And you, Doctor. A _Timelord_. Oh, don’t look surprised – I keep my eye on individuals who pose a threat, and your faces come up _constantly_. Never did I _dream_ you’d come to me. I think I’ll hunt you down. Wouldn’t that be brilliant? The last of the Timelords, hunted down for sport. Maybe I’ll put you in a cabinet.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s happened once before. Didn’t stay that way for long. Don’t really recommend – it’s not much fun.”_ _ _ _

____Hacklymb shakes his head in disgust before addressing Donna._ _ _ _

____“And you,” he says, dragging his fingers across Donna’s chin, “I think I’ll keep you alive. You look like you’ll be _fun_.”_ _ _ _

____Donna loses all composure and smacks his hand away, “Don’t touch me!”_ _ _ _

____The baron laughs, “Or what? What will you do to me?”_ _ _ _

____Donna stutters, fear taking over completely, “I – I – “_ _ _ _

____“Or I’ll kill you,” a little voice pipes up defiantly._ _ _ _

____“Azza!” Donna hisses, trying to shield the demon from view. It’s a useless attempt, the baron shoving her aside to address Azza._ _ _ _

____“You?” he snarls, “I’d like to see you try. Do you have any idea who I am?”_ _ _ _

____Azza smirks. “Yeah. You don’ scare me.”_ _ _ _

____This clearly unsettles Hacklymb, who leans down to regard her with a glare that would instill fear in even the bravest of soldiers. Azza doesn’t bat an eyelid._ _ _ _

____“You know who I am. You know what I’ve done – what I’ll do to you for such _insubordination._ ”_ _ _ _

____“You don’ scare me. I work for Hell.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re mad,” he growls. “Mad, or a bloody fool.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m neither,” Azza replies, a disturbing smile spreading across her face. “I’m _right_.”_ _ _ _

____Before anyone can do anything, Azza has extended her wings and leapt at Hacklymb – teeth ripping at the exposed flesh of his neck. He’s screaming, _screaming_ , falling backwards in an attempt to get the demon off him. The soldiers, who have clearly never been trained for something like this, drop their weapons and flee – leaving their leader to the mercy of this creature that they have no hope of fighting._ _ _ _

____Hacklymb and Azza fall to the ground as one, the taller still scrabbling against the onslaught. She’s unforgiving, not letting up her assault until the last spasm has twitched its way out of Hacklymb’s body. Once she’s satisfied that he’s dead, she uses her foot to push him off the bridge and into the water. His body hits the moat with a splash; blood turning the blue liquid to brown. The dark shapes Aziraphale saw earlier begin to move in, mouths agape with an eager hunger._ _ _ _

____He turns away._ _ _ _

____Azza stands at the edge of the bridge staring down at her handiwork. Her fists are clenched, chest heaving. There’s blood dripping down her chin._ _ _ _

____“No-one talks to my friends like tha’,” she spits down at the water. Azza turns to the four of them with a grin. Her teeth are red._ _ _ _

____“Is everyone alrigh’?” she asks._ _ _ _

____Aziraphale hands her a white towel, miracled from the ether, which she gratefully wipes her face on._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, we’re fine, Azza,” he replies._ _ _ _

____She nods in satisfaction, and hands him the towel back. It’s streaked with scarlet. He miracles it back from whence it came._ _ _ _

____“Did you have to kill him?” Donna asks. There’s a quiver in her voice – whether it’s been caused by fear, anger or grief, Aziraphale can’t tell._ _ _ _

____Azza shrugs, “Maybe no’. Bu’ he were cruel, and was gonna kill ya. Figured it were time he go’ a taste of his own medicine, righ’?”_ _ _ _

____“That doesn’t make killing him necessary,” the Doctor replies sternly._ _ _ _

____Azza scowls, “Wha’ else would ya have had me do? Le’ ‘im kill ya? No way.”_ _ _ _

____The demon scoops up the fallen bag, and swings it over her shoulder._ _ _ _

____“This way, righ’?” she points in the general direction of the TARDIS._ _ _ _

____The Doctor nods, following after with Donna in tow. The two angels wait until they’re out of earshot._ _ _ _

____“What was that you were saying about innocence?” Aziraphale asks, recalling their earlier conversation._ _ _ _

____Zahariel barks out a dry laugh, stepping to the edge of the bridge. “I know. I always wondered how she could be a demon – what she could have possibly done, what she could possibly _do_.”_ _ _ _

____“I fear you may have underestimated her, my dear.”_ _ _ _

____“You can say that again,” they sigh, looking out over the water. The beasts in the moat have made quick work of Hacklymb’s body._ _ _ _

____“Come on, Zahariel. We need to get back to Melbus.”_ _ _ _

____They shake their head, flicking black hair out of their eyes, and step away from the bridge. The two of them walk together, turning the revelations of the day over in their minds. Their worries, their thoughts and their prayers drift upwards into the deep, green gloam of the approaching night._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, we're halfway there; woah, living on a prayer!
> 
> This was so much fun to write.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang return to Roxo - it's time to get some answers.

If Roxo is surprised to see them again, he doesn’t show it; he wordlessly takes the offered bag from Azza and immediately sets to work. Drills whirr, sparks fly and Aziraphale finds that he has no idea what is going on. He tries to ask Roxo what he’s doing, but the man just gestures for him to leave the area. The only one permitted in his work space is Zahariel, who assists by handing him tools when requested.

Defeated, Aziraphale wanders back over to where the other three are sitting. Azza is napping, Donna looks like she’s on the verge of nodding off, and the Doctor is staring into the middle distance – or maybe he’s watching Roxo.

“What _is_ he doing?” Aziraphale asks, more to himself than anyone else.

The Doctor shrugs. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

Aziraphale looks at Donna, who shoots him an amused smile. “Don’t look at me, sunshine. I’m just a temp.”

“Best temp in Chiswick, though,” the Doctor replies, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “And don’t you ever forget that.”

“I won’t if you keep reminding me.”

“I think you’ll find that you’re the one that constantly reminding _me_.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t hurt to hear it from someone else every once in a while.”

“Well,” Aziraphale says, sitting with them, “if you want my two pennies – I think you’re one of the most extraordinary humans I’ve ever met.”

“Two _cents_ , Aziraphale,” the Doctor corrects, but Donna shushes him.

There’s a clatter and a satisfied laugh from the corner of the room. The three of them look to see Roxo holding out a device that definitely didn’t exist twenty minutes ago. He looks very pleased with himself. Zahariel is peering over his shoulder, already pointing out suggestions for improvements. Aziraphale nudges Azza awake as they go over to see what the pair have made.

Zahariel is beaming – literally. There’s a glow of excitement all around them.

“Isn’t it _fantastic_?” they babble.

Aziraphale frowns, “And it is?”

“A rapid-shift signal tracker – one that will help us locate whatever is blocking the signals around Melbus. Roxo’s used the oscillating components of the stablising field to make it and – “

“And they get it, Zahariel,” Roxo interrupts, “they can see it works. They don’t need any more detail than that.”

“Wait,” Donna asks, holding her hands up. “You mean we went all that way, and _almost died_ for the security system? I thought you were after the ruby?”

“One of the _best_ security systems in the galaxy – one that I could never have dreamt of getting my hands on myself,” Roxo admits with a shrug. He grabs the ruby off the table and throws it in the human’s direction, “Here – I’ve got no use for a trinket.”

She catches it deftly with her right hand, before pocketing it with a bemused grin.

Roxo turns back to Zahariel. “You ready? Let’s go and find this thing.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the Doctor says, stepping in the man’s path. “Now the deal was that if we got you the ruby, you’d give us information to help us find Crowley. We’ve done our bit – now it’s your turn.”

Roxo has the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Oh, you’re right. Sorry, I got caught up in the euphoria of having the right part.”

Aziraphale can relate; he’s forgotten many an appointment, wrapped up in the joy of acquiring a priceless first addition for his collection.

“What information are you looking for?”

“I was able to get a lock on the ship that took our friend. It was operating out of phase, partially at least, and the signal led us here.”

Roxo frowns. “No-one on Melbus has the technological requirements for out-of-phase technology yet. Are you quite sure it was here?”

“Would we be here if I wasn’t?”

“And it wasn’t an echo-back?”

“Ye – no – I’m not sure,” the Doctor admits.

Roxo hands his device to Zahariel and sits at one of the many screens that litter the workshop. The Doctor waves his sonic screwdriver in its direction, and information pours itself into the screen.

“Echo-back?” Aziraphale asks.

“It’s a signalling phenomenon,” Zahariel explains. “It’s like when – “

“When a whale squeaks and the sound bounces off stuff. All them signals gets a bit much. Confuses sensors loads,” Azza cuts in.

Zahariel stares at the demon, open-mouthed.

“Wha’? I’ve hung around you enough to know wha’ tha’ means.”

Roxo clears his throat, dragging their attention back in his direction.

“This is Xyloan technology.”

They all look to the Doctor expectantly. He rubs the back of his head.

“Not heard of them, I’m afraid.”

Donna pouts.

The Doctor splutters. “What? I’m not allowed to learn something new?”

Roxo rolls his eyes. “They’re a reclusive race based in the Whirlpool Galaxy. According to this there’s only ever been a handful of sightings, and no outsider has ever set foot on their planet. Are you _sure_ this is an accurate reading?”

“I’m _very_ sure.”

“The Xyloans aren’t exactly known for kidnapping people. They’re more of the ‘ignore the rest of the universe’ type.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Here are the coordinates to the home planet. If you want, you can download all the information I’ve… acquired.”

The Doctor chuckles, and downloads the information onto the sonic screwdriver. “I do I want to know how you got all this?”

“Probably not.”

“What happens now?” Donna asks.

Roxo powers down the screen and stands up. “We go our separate ways. Zahariel, you’ll lock up, won’t you?”

“Sure,” the angel replies, handing over the tracker.

“In that case – Doctor, Donna, Aziraphale, Azza it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, but I need to be off – got a signal blocker to dismantle.” And with that, the engineer disappears out the door.

The Doctor turns to address Zahariel and Azza. “What about you two?”

“There’s plenty of space in the TARDIS if you fancy coming along?” Donna offers.

“All of space and time – how does that sound?”

The angel and the demon look at each other with twin smiles.

“That’s very generous,” Zahariel starts.

“But sadly, we’re needed righ’ ‘ere,” Azza explains.

“We’ve got wiles to thwart.”

“Blessin’s to avert.”

“And a transmitter to smash to pieces.”

“Tha’ don’ sound very angelic of ya, angel!”

“First time for everything,” they reply with a grin. “Don’t look so sad – you know where to find us. Besides, you need to go and get your friend back.”

They part ways with hugs outside Roxo’s workshop. The angel and demon sprint down the street, calling for Roxo – laughing as they go.

And then there were three.

“What is it about angels and demons and turning down time travel?” the Doctor wonders aloud as they trudge back to the TARDIS.

“I wouldn’t take offence,” Aziraphale offers. “There are merely things that need tying up. And defying one’s nature is rarely easy.”

“Well, I reckon they’ve made a start,” Donna says. “I think that’s the beginning of a powerful friendship.”

“You know what, my dear,” the angel grins, “I think you’re right.”

“TARDIS! Here we are – knew we couldn’t be far.”

“At least it’s still here,” Donna teases. “Last time you parked in a marketplace, it was in Pompeii and it got _sold_.”

The Doctor pulls a face as he unlocks the door.

Donna gives him a pointed look. “On _volcano day_.”

“You lose a TARDIS once and they never let you forget it,” he gripes.

They pile into the blue box, and run up to the console.

“So, the Whirlpool Galaxy. According to these coordinates, the planet Xyloa is the fifth planet in the Crystana system. Only inhabited planet in that sector. I get the impression that the Xyloans like it that way.” Each phrase is punctuated with the press of a button or the flick of a switch. The mechanisms of the ship burble around them.

“Is it far?” Aziraphale asks.

“Yes and no. Yes – it’s several million lightyears away. No – the TARDIS will have us there in a couple of ticks.”

The Doctor pulls one last lever and the TARDIS whirs into action.

Now they aren’t undertaking an intergalactic high-speed chase, the journey is a lot easier to manage and Aziraphale finds that he isn’t clinging onto the console for dear life. It’s even possible for the three of them to hold a conversation. A shouted conversation, but a conversation nonetheless.

“Do we know much else about these people?” Donna asks.

“Not really. Roxo’s files are pretty limited.”

“Well he did _say_ that they were reclusive,” Aziraphale points out. “It sounds like we’ve had more interaction with these Xyloans than most.”

Donna nods, and looks back to the Doctor. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”

“Nah – seems unlikely to me. A race which incredibly advanced technology, but chooses to keep themselves to themselves? No, I reckon if they wanted to cause harm, they would.”

“But that doesn’t explain why they’ve taken Crowley. It makes no _sense_ , Doctor.”

“I know,” he replies, “but we’re almost there and – “

The TARDIS slams to a halt, and the trio are flung harshly across the console room. The two time-travellers manage to keep themselves upright, just about, but Aziraphale finds himself crashing to the floor.

Donna hurries over, helping the angel up from the metal grating. “Aziraphale! Are you alright?”

He looks down at his hands. Cuts have opened up on his palms where he reached out to save himself. They’re bleeding.

“We’ve got a medi-kit somewhere, hang on.”

“No need, my dear,” he says gently. He shuts his eyes and feels the warm power of healing spread across his hands. The cuts begin to close, new skin creeping across the wounds. He hears Donna exhale in wonder at the power of the miracle. He opens his eyes and waggles his fingers in her direction.

“I know I saw you do that to Crowley,” she says with wide eyes. “But that’s still really impressive.”

Aziraphale shrugs modestly, and gives a little wiggle. “Perks of the job. Very handy in a pinch.”

“I have no doubt.”

“You have _got _to be kidding me!” the Doctor exclaims from the other side of the column. He’s put his glasses back on and is regarding the screen as though it has personally offended him.__

__“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asks._ _

__“It’s not here.”_ _

__“What’s not here?”_ _

__“The planet,” he says, as if it’s obvious._ _

__Aziraphale looks to Donna with a frown. Her brow is also furrowed in confusion._ _

__“What do you mean the planet isn’t here?” she asks with frustrated sarcasm. “How do you lose an entire planet?”_ _

__“Are you quite sure we’re in the right place?”_ _

__“I’m sure, Aziraphale. We’re exactly where Roxo’s coordinates directed us and _there’s nothing here_.”_ _

__“Nothing at all?”_ _

__“Nothing of _note_ , unless you’re looking for six barren planets and a highly unstable star.”_ _

__“That’s not helpful, Doctor,” Donna chides._ _

__The Doctor pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I know, I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Might the sensors be malfunctioning?” she asks._ _

__He frowns. “I suppose it’s possible. Might be worth checking the old-fashioned way.”_ _

__“The old-fashioned way?” Aziraphale mutters to himself as the Doctor runs past him._ _

__The Doctor flings open the doors. Aziraphale instinctively clings to the console with a small cry, expecting to be blasted out into the into the cold, harsh vacuum of space._ _

__Nothing happens._ _

__Donna chuckles, and pats Aziraphale’s arm._ _

__“The shields are on. We’re perfectly safe.”_ _

__“Ah, I see,” he replies, adjusting his coat sleeves and his dignity._ _

__“Come on. Let’s go see.”_ _

__The Doctor is draped against the doorframe, torso half leaning out of the TARDIS. He’s squinting, as if trying to see into a different dimension. But there’s nothing there – just a few floating rocks and some space dust._ _

__“I – I don’t understand,” he murmurs. “It should be here. It _must_ be here.”_ _

__“Could Roxo have double-crossed us?” Donna asks._ _

__The Doctor sighs. “But why would he? There would have been no point at that stage in the game.”_ _

__“But it’s not impossible, right?”_ _

__“I checked the data,” he says, running back up to the console. “I verified it – it’s accurate.”_ _

__“Not accurate enough,” she replies flippantly, “or we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”_ _

__Aziraphale stops listening. There’s not much he can do to help. In all honesty, he hasn’t really been that helpful in this whole affair. He leans against the doorframe, and rests his head on the wood, watching the rocks drift by._ _

__He closes his eyes._ _

___Oh, Crowley. Where are you?_ _ _

__There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach. It feels like falling – like that moment in the dark when you think there’s one step more than there should be. He shies away from it, afraid of what it means._ _

___Aziraphale?_ _ _

__A voice. A faint voice – tuning in._ _

___Aziraphale – is that you?_ _ _

__The angel’s eyes fly open._ _

__That’s…_ _

__That’s…_ _

__“Crowley?” he asks to the empty space, trying to pick up even the smallest thread of demonic energy._ _

__“What is it, Aziraphale?” Donna asks._ _

__He holds up his hand, gesturing for her to be quiet so that he can concentrate. Shuts his eyes. There’s that tug in his stomach again, but this time he lets it settle – lets it take him where he needs to go. And all at once _Crowley_ is in his mind._ _

__Bright, beautiful, _blinding_ Crowley._ _

__“Crowley, my dear!” the angel exclaims. “Where are you? We’ve been across the universe looking for you!”_ _

__The Doctor and Donna are by his side in an instant._ _

__“Where? Where is he?” the Doctor babbles. “How are you communicating with him?”_ _

__“I’m not quite sure,” Aziraphale replies. “How is this working, Crowley?”_ _

__The demon in his mind chuckles. Aziraphale can’t _see_ him as such, but his presence is almost overwhelming. He can tell that Crowley is grinning._ _

___I’m in your head, angel. Things are… difficult to explain. Let’s just say my brainwaves have been given a bit of a boost._ _ _

__“He says that his brainwaves have been given a boost. He’s in my head, I think?” Aziraphale explains to the Doctor and Donna._ _

__“He must be using some method of brainwave amplification. Can he hear us when we talk to you?”_ _

___Loud and clear._ _ _

__“Yes, he can – but you can’t hear him, can you?”_ _

__The Doctor grins. “I can do something about that! Hold on, Crowley!”_ _

___I’m glued to the edge of my seat,_ is the demon’s wry response._ _

__“Are you alright, Crowley?” Donna asks._ _

___Much better, now I know you three are nearby._ _ _

__Aziraphale relays Crowley’s response to Donna._ _

__“So, that means we’re close?”_ _

__“Hold that thought, and come over here!” the Doctor shouts._ _

__The Doctor has got his head and shoulders buried under the grating of the TARDIS floor. He’s frantically rummaging around between suitcases, boxes and various bits of gadgetry – what else has he got down there?_ _

__“P – P – P! I’m sure I filed it under P!”_ _

__“Doctor?” Donna hazards, leaning to try and get a better view._ _

__“P – it was definitely P. Or was it A? I really should tidy this place up.”_ _

__“Doctor!”_ _

__“Ah- _ha!_ ” he shouts triumphantly, yanking a device made mostly of wires from beneath the deck. “P! I was right!”_ _

__“ _DOCTOR!_ ” Donna yells, finally losing her patience. “For goodness sake, what are you on about?”_ _

__“This!” he replies with a bright smile, as if it will explain everything._ _

__Donna and Aziraphale give each other a sideways glance._ _

__“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Aziraphale offers._ _

__The Doctor stares at the pair of them, completely affronted._ _

__“Oi! Don’t look at us like we just dribbled on your shirt. We don’t all have the brains of a Timelord, thank goodness.”_ _

__The Doctor opens his mouth to retort, but thinks better of it. In his head, Aziraphale senses Crowley’s well-worn smirk. The alien holds up the device. Aziraphale can now see that it resembles a headset, with something not dissimilar to a torch strapped to the side._ _

__“What exactly _is_ that?” the angel asks._ _

__“It’s a portable neural relay transmitter!” he beams, beginning to secure the device to Aziraphale’s head._ _

__“And what’s that when it’s at home?”_ _

__The Doctor connects the straps under Aziraphale’s chin, adjusting the headpiece with a grin. “It’s going to project Crowley’s image and allow us to talk to him, and he’ll be able to talk to us.”_ _

__“How is it going to do that?”_ _

__“It’s going to plug into your neural network.”_ _

__“What? How?”_ _

__“Like this,” he replies, pressing a button. “Might pinch a bit.”_ _

__There’s a short, sharp pain at the base of his skull. He flinches, and hisses, “Ow!”_ _

__“Sorry,” the Doctor apologises, without sounding particularly sorry. “Hey, Crowley. I’m going to turn the device on. We should be able to see you, and you should be able to see us.”_ _

___I can hardly wait._ _ _

__“Don’t be rude, my dear,” Aziraphale scolds._ _

__The transmitter activates with a _bleep!_ and a projection of a certain, lanky demon flickers into life._ _

__He looks absolutely fine, thank _goodness.__ _

__“Crowley!” the Doctor cries. “How are you? Where are you?”_ _

__“I’m alright under the circumstances. I’m on a planet called Xyloa – I believe you’re close by.”_ _

__“Yes, we got coordinates from a guy on Melbus. They led us here, but we can’t seem to find you.”_ _

__Crowley chuckles. “Yes, the Xyloans are quite big on privacy.”_ _

__“So, we’re in the right place?” Donna asks._ _

__“Hey, Donna! Yes, you are – we need to do some stuff at our end to get you in.”_ _

__“Our end?” the Doctor queries with a frown. “Who are you working with?”_ _

__“It’s tricky to explain – much easier for the Xyloans to show you when you get down here.”_ _

__“What are you doing?” Aziraphale asks, “And are you safe?”_ _

__“Yes, I’m safe, angel. I’m working with their scientists. They need your help, Doctor – badly.”_ _

__“Let me guess,” the Doctor mutters, “they kidnapped you, thinking it was me.”_ _

__“Something like that,” Crowley laughs. “I suppose it was my turn this time.”_ _

__“Yes, I suppose it’s only fair.”_ _

__“Your hair has gotten awfully long,” Donna says abruptly._ _

__She’s right. Only this morning the demon’s hair was in its perfectly coiffed quiff. Now, it tumbles in waves around his shoulders – almost to the length it was in Mesopotamia._ _

__“Ah – that’s, hmm… look, I’ve got to go. They’re telling me that the planet will come into shift soon, but only for a few moments. You’ve got to get down here as soon as you can.”_ _

__The projection starts to fade._ _

__“Wait! Crowley!” Azirphale cries, but the demon interrupts him._ _

__“Be sure to speak to the Xyloan Council first. They’ll explain everything. Then come and see me – it will make more sense that way.”_ _

__“Crowley!”_ _

__But the projection is gone, and the demonic presence has faded from his mind._ _

__The loss is staggering._ _

__“Crowley,” he murmurs._ _

__Donna places a hand over Aziraphale’s and gives him a warm smile._ _

__“Don’t fret. We’ll be with him soon.”_ _

__“You’re right,” he replies, unstrapping the ungainly device and placing back in its spot under the grating._ _

__There’s a _zing!_ and the Doctor flings himself at the console._ _

__“Yes!” he cries in delight. “Xyloa! It’s on the sensors. Look at all these readings!”_ _

__He taps at the battered keyboard on the console. The screen is lit up with masses of data._ _

__“Woah! That’s _monumental_ amounts of power.” He looks up, as if trying to tease an answer out of the æther. “What on earth could they need all that for?”_ _

__Donna nudges him. “Look, we can’t hang about. Crowley said we wouldn’t have much time so _let’s go_.”_ _

__The Doctor nods in agreement, and begins the TARDIS launch sequence. He gets to the last lever, and flashes the other two a wide grin. “Allonsy!”_ _

__He pulls the lever, the engines sing, and the TARDIS plunges down, down, down to the planet’s surface._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss him?
> 
> I'm so sorry it took this long for us to hear from our favourite demon! Don't worry, he plays a much larger role from this point on (as he was the main character in the first one I felt it was only fair)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xyloa. Paradise - or so it seems. Perhaps there is something sinister lurking beneath its shining exterior.

Aziraphale, Donna and the Doctor step out into the heart of Xyloa’s only major city. Aziraphale gasps in amazement. The place is a beautiful vision of a solarpunk future humans on Earth love to wax lyrical about. Immense glass towers punch into the sky, reaching so far up they tear holes in the clouds. Plants pour from every available surface turning the city into a living, breathing organism. Nature and technology co-existing in perfect harmony. The three of them look around with wide eyes and a childish wonder. It’s perfect.

That is, if you don’t count the burning red sky.

“Red sky in the morning,” Donna quotes, looking up with a grim smile, “shepherd’s warning.”

“Someone’s warning, anyway,” the Doctor replies. He waves his sonic screwdriver around to get some readings.

Their appearance has already drawn the attention of a number of Xyloans, and a silver-clad crowd begins to form, regarding the group with a wary electric-blue gaze. They keep their distance, clearly unsure of these strange visitors, and their just as strange blue box.

“So,” Donna says, nudging Aziraphale’s shoulder, “third new planet in the same day – aren’t you lucky?”

“I suppose I am,” he replies. “Third time lucky for finding Crowley.”

Donna nods in agreement. “I hope he’s alright. It took a lot longer to get here than I thought.”

“Yes. But we’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“This place is amazing!” the Doctor cries from where he’s standing.

Donna rolls her eyes. “He can’t bear not being the centre of attention for more than thirty seconds,” she says with an affectionate grin. “Come on, let’s go and see what he found.”

Aziraphale smiles and falls in step with her. “What have you found, Doctor?”

“It’s absolutely _incredible_ ,” he babbles in astonishment. “The technology and the biology are _entwined_.”

Aziraphale frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the plants are part of their technology. They’re acting as energy conduits.”

“What? They’re like living wires?” Donna asks.

“Yes!” the Doctor exclaims. “They’re a fundamental part of how things work. You take the plants away and you’ve got nothing. How, though – I’ve never seen anything like it. I wonder if they co-evolved mutualistically, or the Xyloans just took advantage of an already existing attribute.”

The crowd parts as a group of men and women in billowing robes stride into view. As they pass, people nod their heads in respect.

“Why don’t you ask them?” Aziraphale replies, turning to face the Xyloan Council – after all, who else could these people be?

The Doctor and Donna face the approaching group, the Doctor tucking the sonic back into his pocket and Donna readjusting her jacket. The councilmembers form a little semicircle on the grass in front of them. A woman in deep red robes and an impressive silver headpiece stands at the centre.

Time to get down to business.

“Hello!” the Doctor greets with unbounded enthusiasm, “I’m the Doctor! These are my friends Aziraphale and Donna. We believe you know our other friend, Crowley?”

“Yes, we know him,” the woman with the headpiece answers, stepping forward. “I am the Leader of Xyloa – First Mistress Aspen, at your service.”

“Very nice to meet you,” the Doctor replies. “We’d like to – “

“First of all, let me welcome you to our home,” she interrupts with a curtsey.

The other council members follow Aspen’s lead, offering the trio a reverent bow. The Doctor rolls his eyes, but Donna revels in their unified salute. Aziraphale shifts awkwardly on his feet.

“Where’s Crowley?” he finds himself asking. All this bowing is very well and good, but they’re here for a _reason_ and Aziraphale is not going to let them forget it.

“He’s fine, I give you my word,” Aspen replies, “But he requested that we explain ourselves to you before we take you to him.”

“Well then,” the Doctor says, “You’d better get talking.”

“It will be easier to show you – if you will come with me?”

Aspen gestures for them to follow her. The Doctor falls in line with her, Donna and Aziraphale forming a pair behind them. The rest of the council trail after, whispering in small groups. The crowd parts as they pass.

“Look at them,” Donna murmurs as they go, “they look terrified.”

Aziraphale has noticed – how could he not? Their terror is coming off them in waves, almost overwhelmingly so.

They reach their destination – a glass dome that glows in the burning red light. Leafy tendrils curl all the way up the metal supports, and plunge through openings carefully designed for this purpose. As they ascend the stairs, Aziraphale notes that the leaves are withering, curling up in something like discomfort or pain. He thinks of Crowley’s plants back in Mayfair – if any of them started misbehaving like this there would be _strong words_.

The three of them are led by Aspen through ornate corridors into the main chamber. Wooden chairs are lined in three tiers around the edge of the room, each claimed by a member of the council. In the centre is a large slab of polished rock.

No.

Aziraphale shakes his head and looks again. It’s a _tablet_ \- much like those humans have on Earth, but huge. It hums into life at the presence of the council, displaying something that looks like a countdown. Aspen takes her place at the end of the room – a large, intricately-carved wooden throne; a reminder of her power. A young man sits on a small chair to her left, looking very sorry for himself. He glances up, catching their gaze with unearthly blue eyes.

Aziraphale gasps.

It’s the man from St. James’s Park.

“Guys, I gotta admit,” the Doctor gushes, “I love what you’ve done with the place. Using _plants_ as energy conduits? I’m dead impressed. How did that come about?”

“Our forefathers observed the properties of the plants here, and realised their potential,” Aspen explains. “They harnessed the natural, sustainable power of the planet and built a society around it.”

“That’s genius, _genius_ honestly. And that’s impressive seeing that I’m in the room.”

“Not modest, is he?” Donna quips.

“Unlimited, sustainable power from a living energy network. You guys were set. No wonder you have no contact with the outside world – you’ve got no need for them.”

“You’re right, Doctor. We’ve kept ourselves isolated from the rest of the polluted universe,” says Aspen.

“It’s a perfect system. You’re powered by the plants, and the plants are powered by the sun.” The Doctor sighs. “But that’s where it went wrong, isn’t it?”

Aspen nods, and waves her hand. The countdown vanishes, and is instead replaced by a holographic projection of their sun. Donna and Aziraphale step closer to have a look. The Doctor whips out his glasses.

“Our sun is dying.”

“That’s what you said in the TARDIS, Doctor,” Donna recalls. “You said that the star was unstable.”

“Massively so,” he replies, but more to himself than to anyone else. “What happened?”

“We… aren’t sure,” Aspen admits. “We’ve had our best minds, and some others, trying to figure that out. We just know that the sun is combining the hydrogen and helium into much heavier compounds than it should. As a result the core is fluctuating – has shifted to the infra-red end of the spectrum.”

“Oh,” the Doctor breathes, “and that’s destroying the plants.”

“How?” Donna asks.

“They can’t photosynthesize, Donna,” Aziraphale explains, “because they turn visible light into food. They can’t do that while the sun is infrared.”

“Ahhh.”

The Doctor looks at the angel in surprise. Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “I was on the planning committee for plants. Absolute _nightmare _to sign off on the final design – but a good result I think you’ll agree.”__

__Donna smiles. The Doctor raises a quizzical eyebrow. The Xyloans stare at him blankly. Aziraphale steps back and keeps his mouth shut._ _

__“So, you see, Doctor,” Aspen says, taking back control of the conversation, “we find ourselves in a perilous position. Our lives, our very _existence_ hangs in the balance you see.”_ _

__“Yes, I do.”_ _

__“But I don’t understand what all this has got to do with Crowley,” Donna says. “Why kidnap him?”_ _

__“That,” Aspen spits, looking down at the young man, “was not our plan. Someone took it upon themselves to get help and made a mess of things.”_ _

__“I had no choice,” he replies, not looking up from the floor._ _

__“There are always choices, Malac,” Aspen chides. “You made the wrong one.”_ _

__“Hardly!” Malac replies jumping up. “I may have got the wrong man, but he’s been more helpful than _all_ our scientists combined, and you know it.”_ _

__A wave of shock at this outburst rolls around the council chamber._ _

__“Sit down and be quiet, young man! You can explain yourself to them later.”_ _

__Malac sits down, directing a ferocious scowl at the floor. Silence._ _

__“Huh,” the Doctor says, squinting at readings that scroll past at lightning speed, “that’s odd. You haven’t been experimenting with wormhole technology, have you, Mistress Aspen?”_ _

__The First Mistress frowns. “No – we haven’t. Why is that relevant?”_ _

__“Because, the only thing I can think of that would cause a chain reaction like this is a wormhole passing through the core of the sun. Let me see…”_ _

__He lets the sentence trail off and buzzes the display with the sonic screwdriver. The diagram of the sun zooms out, past the barren planets, past Xyloa and out into empty space. Different solar systems flicker into life and results of scans pop up._ _

__“Come on, come on,” he chants through gritted teeth._ _

__“What are you looking for, Doctor?” Donna asks._ _

__There is a beep and a flash of green. The Doctor exhales._ _

__“What is it?” Aspen is craning her neck to see what he’s found._ _

__“Mid-21st Century, Whirlpool Galaxy. How could I be so thick?”_ _

__“Oi, Doctor! We aren’t all aliens with an encyclopedic knowledge of the universe. What’s going _on?_ ” Donna stamps her foot impatiently._ _

__“This,” the Doctor says, gesturing at the display, “is the home of the Ferra people. It’s the birthplace of wormhole technology. But at the moment it’s rudimentary, inaccurate and,” he turns to face Aspen, “very difficult to control. I’m so sorry, but one of their experiments must have passed through your sun.”_ _

__Aspen folds her arms. “What help is this information?”_ _

__“Well, now I know what’s caused it, I can begin to think of a solution.”_ _

__It’s Aspen’s turn to stamp her foot. “We _have_ a solution, Doctor. We just need help making it viable.”_ _

__The Doctor seems taken aback. “Oh – why didn’t you say so?”_ _

__“You didn’t let me.”_ _

__“Ah.”_ _

__Aspen takes a deep breath and begins to explain. “Your friend, Crowley, he came with knowledge of the stars. He told us about this heavy-metal conversion, and showed us a way to fix it.”_ _

__She waves a hand and a new diagram appears – a machine of some kind._ _

__“This is the Pulsifer Device.”_ _

__Aziraphale, having managed to valiantly stay quiet up until this point, can’t help but snort at the name. Donna shoots him an odd look._ _

__He smiles brightly. “Sorry, don’t mind me!”_ _

__They don’t._ _

__“This device will send a pulse into the sun and break apart the heavy compounds. But we have a problem, we – “_ _

__“No!” Malac cries, looking up at Aspen in terror. “You mustn’t – you know what he said.”_ _

__“ _Malac,_ ” Aspen warns, an edge of rage creeping into her voice. “Be quiet. Doctor, we – “_ _

__“Please! Mistress Aspen, I beg you – don’t!” the young man pleads._ _

__“We can’t power the device - ”_ _

__“No!”_ _

__“ _No-one can!_ ” Aspen thunders, directing the full force of her anger at Malac. “There is _nothing_ within our knowledge that can be used to power the device.”_ _

__Malac stands up, holding her stare and clenching his fists as he speaks._ _

__“Crowley told you not to tell them that.” His voice is very small. At first Aziraphale thinks this might be humility but then he realizes; anger has steam-rolled Malac’s voice completely. “He told you _not_ to tell them that, and there’s nothing that can help us now – not even a miracle.”_ _

__And with that, Malac storms from the room – slamming the doors behind him._ _

___Not even a miracle._ _ _

__What a peculiar choice of words._ _

__Aspen rubs her temples as though trying to fend off a headache._ _

__“Everything alright?” the Doctor asks._ _

__“Forgive me,” Aspen replies with a wave of her hand. “Malac has been testing our patience recently.”_ _

__“I can see. Do you have a prototype of this device?”_ _

__“Yes, Doctor. It just lacks a suitable power source.” Aspen directs her attention to Aziraphale, “Crowley said that you would be able to make it work.”_ _

__“Me?” Aziraphale gapes._ _

__“Him?” the Doctor echoes, aghast. Donna elbows him in the ribs._ _

__“Yes. He said to ask you to turn it on, and you would make it work.”_ _

__“Oh no,” Aziraphale breathes, sitting down in a miraculously empty seat._ _

__“What is it, Aziraphale?” Donna asks, crouching down next to him._ _

__“Malac was right,” he breathes, not wanting to be overheard by the others. “They shouldn’t have told me that it doesn’t work. I can’t _miracle_ that.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__He puts a hand over hers. “It’s difficult to explain. I’ll try to, but – not here,” his eyes flick up to Aspen._ _

__Donna nods, understanding. She shoots the Doctor a look, which Aziraphale finds quite unreadable, but the Doctor picks up on her meaning immediately._ _

__“Well, this is an awful lot to get done in one day. I mean, we’ve only been missing Crowley for a few hours and he’s been able to tell you what’s wrong, find a solution _and_ you’ve built a device. I’m very impressed.”_ _

__Aspen laughs. “Well, it only seems like one day to you. For us it’s been months.”_ _

__“ _Months?_ ” Donna frowns. “No, you’re wrong. It’s only been…”_ _

__“Your confusion is understandable. We’ve been using something we believe you refer to as… time dilation?”_ _

__The Doctor’s eyes widen in recognition. “I see. No wonder the TARDIS sensors couldn’t find you. A cloaking device _and_ a dilation field. Xyloa has been existing in its own pocket of space-time.”_ _

__Aziraphale raises his hand, “I’m sorry – I’m not familiar with that term.”_ _

__The Doctor turns to face the angel. “Right, imagine there’s a big bubble around the planet. Now, that bubble is something we call a time dilation field. Outside the bubble, the field – whatever – time for the rest of the universe is moving along normally – “_ _

__“But inside it’s sped up,” Aziraphale finishes, nodding in understanding. “That makes sense, thank you.”_ _

__“But, hang on,” Donna says, shaking her head, “if it’s been months, like you say, then where’s Crowley? He’ll be _desperate_ to see Aziraphale, I know it. Surely whatever he is doing isn’t as important as that?”_ _

__It’s a good question, and Aziraphale is a little ashamed that he didn’t think of it himself._ _

__Aspen squirms uncomfortably under Donna’s gaze._ _

__“Yes,” the Doctor repeats, “where is Crowley?”_ _

__“Would you like me to take you to him?”_ _

__“I thought we made that pretty clear when we arrived,” Donna snaps._ _

__Aspen holds up her hand, preventing the human from launching into a tirade of insults. She stands and sweeps out of the room, her robes trailing behind her like a river of blood. The three of them hurry after her._ _

__Aziraphale expects Aspen to lead them out of the building, but instead she takes them to a set of stairs. They descend down, down and down some more. Unease starts to prickle its way up Aziraphale’s forearms, his spine. He feels like they’re getting closer to Hell. He tries to force the preposterous thought from his mind – _Hell is on Earth after all_ he tells himself – but it just reverberates louder and louder in his brain._ _

__“Are you alright?” the Doctor asks. “You’re breathing quite heavily. You don’t have to come down here.”_ _

__“No – I need to come. I need to see him.”_ _

__The Doctor gives him a small smile, and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder._ _

__They reach a door, which opens at Aspen’s presence. Blue light pours out of the room. A shadow stands in the doorway._ _

__“Malac,” Aspen greets with a curt nod._ _

__“First Mistress,” he murmurs in reply. He doesn’t look at her._ _

__“I’ll leave them with you. You can explain what must be done.”_ _

__He nods in assent. Aspen gives the three of them a grateful smile as she leaves. Malac moves aside to allow them access._ _

__The first thing that hits Aziraphale is the _smell_. The room smells lush – it’s thick with the scent of plants. Rosemary. Sandalwood. Citrus. The fragrances mingle in the air like an extravagant perfume. It smells heavenly. _ _

__It smells like Eden._ _

__There are plants everywhere. They tangle with each other on the floor, tumble off shelves and wrap themselves around wires. Unlike the plants they had seen outside, which were sick and brown, these specimens are nothing short of literal _perfection_. No signs of rot, no hint of brown, no fear of death – these plants are verdant and vibrant and so, so alive._ _

__Above the noise of the machinery down here, Aziraphale can hear someone humming. It’s a beautiful tune, but one that seems so full of sorrow. Malac beckons for them to follow, putting his fingers to his lips. They pick their way over vines and cables that snake their way along the floor – it’s almost as though they’re leading the way. In the corridor, standing at a control panel is the source of the beautiful humming – a girl, no more than sixteen years old, with thick brown hair. She looks up, startled slightly at their appearance, but smiles when she sees who it is._ _

__“They came,” she breathes in wonder._ _

__“Of course, they did, Alya,” Malac replies. “Of course, they did.”_ _

__The Doctor scans the area with his sonic screwdriver; searching for what, Aziraphale can’t say._ _

__“He’ll be so pleased,” Alya replies, bowing to the three newcomers. “This way – quickly.”_ _

__The five of them round the corner and step into a chamber – not as big as the council chamber, which is somewhere far above their heads, but no less impressive. The plants are thicker here, coiling protectively around the equipment, including the Pulsifer Device which lies adorned with large pink flowers. Vines, throbbing with an eerie blue light, cascade from the ceiling towards an immense device. The light casts dancing shadows across the room. In the centre is a metal throne, and in it, sits a figure._ _

__A figure with long red hair, braided tenderly with green leaves._ _

__A figure with glowing, golden eyes, and a crown made of twisted wire and thorns._ _

__A figure that smiles and says, “Come to pick up what’s left of me, angel?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3 chapters left! I can't wait to share them with you! :D
> 
> Having sat on numerous committees, I couldn't resist making a little joke about that (if you don't laugh, you'll cry)
> 
> On a completely irrelevant side note, I've realised that this is the second fic I've written with a character named Aspen in it. I guess it's just a good name.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Averting the apocalypse - again (don't worry - Satan doesn't turn up this time).

“You look bloody awful.”

Crowley chuckles. “Thanks, Donna. It’s good to see you too.”

“The plants are doing well.”

“They’d better, if they know what’s good for ‘em.”

He grins as all the plants in the chamber begin to shiver at once.

Crowley looks dreadful - absolutely nothing like the projection in the TARDIS.

Aziraphale steps up to Crowley. “What happened to you?” he asks, cradling Crowley’s cheek in his hand. “That projection… you sounded fine but you…”

The demon’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into the touch tenderly, hungrily – like he’s been starving for Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley sighs and opens his eyes again.

“The projection was a trick on my part - I didn’t want you to worry. As for what happened to me… I think that’s something for these two to explain.”

Malac shifts on his feet. “I was _desperate_ , but I never meant for things to end like this.”

Crowley laughs, but it morphs into a heaving cough. Alya runs up, and helps him drink water from a cup. Aziraphale steps back in alarm, but allows his hand to drift down and claim Crowley’s fingers as his own. The Doctor reaches for his sonic screwdriver, and begins to examine the device Crowley is ensnared by.

“I’m not interested in your atonement, Malac,” Crowley replies once he’s recovered. “We both know that you’d make the exact same decision if it came to it again. And I would too.”

“Sorry, what’s going on?” Donna asks.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“We’ve got time,” she replies gently.

“But Crowley doesn’t,” Malac spits, throwing his hands in the air. “And if Aspen had listened to me, we’d be able to get him out and explain properly but – “

“Wait, you’re not telling me…?” Crowley asks, allowing the sentence to trail off as he realizes the severity of the situation.

Aziraphale kneels next to Crowley and rests his forehead on their entwined hands. “She told us the device doesn’t work. I’m sorry, Crowley – but you know what that means.”

Crowley lets himself slump back into the throne. If Aziraphale didn’t know better, he would think that Crowley has given up.

“Tell them, Malac. Quickly,” he orders.

Malac pauses for a moment, considering where to begin his tale. The Doctor stops his buzzing.

“The Council have had to make decisions that they might not normally make,” the young man says; “desperate times, desperate measures and all that. And one of them was to commission the time dilation device. Now, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out about our technology – “

“Not a great deal, other than there’s a fundamental link between your plants and your tech,” the Doctor replies. “It’s remarkable – completely unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Malac smiles, “It’s a blessing – and a curse.”

“A curse?” Donna asks, “You’ve got completely sustainable technology. How could that ever be a curse?”

“Well… the vines are normally enough – all the basic systems run on those. But sometimes something more substantial is required as an organic component. Usually it’s something like a tree, or maybe an animal if we’re hard pressed.”

“An _animal_?”

“Yeah. It’s not great – it usually… usually completely drains the life force of the chosen subject. But for something like this you’d need…”

“A person,” the Doctor whispers. “You’d need a person.”

“That’s _barbaric_ ,” Donna hisses. “You can’t go around using people as batteries – that’s not right!”

“How do you pick?” the Doctor asks, turning back to Malac.

He hangs his head, and looks at his shoes. “The Council makes the decision. Makes it ‘fair’, or so they say. But it was…”

“I was picked,” Alya interrupts. There are tears glistening on her cheeks.

“Oh, you poor child,” Aziraphale breathes, offering a hug to the girl. She accepts it gratefully, and begins to sob into his waistcoat.

“My little sister,” Malac repeats, voice cracking slightly. “It was a death sentence for her – you have to understand, I had _no choice_. I had to do something – I had to get help. And I’d heard about the Doctor you see – heard stories about him. I thought you’d be able to help.”

“So you came to Earth,” the Doctor says, finally understanding what has happened.

“Yeah.” Malac smiles slightly, looking up at Crowley, “Got a bit mixed up – sorry.”

Crowley shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“So, you brought Crowley back to Xyloa. And then what?”

“I tried to help, Doctor. Fat lot of good it did.”

“That’s not true,” Alya exclaims, extracting herself from the waistcoat. “You did so much with the time they gave you.”

“They?”

“The Council,” Malac replies. “They were insistent on activating the dilation device. They gave him _hours_.”

“In their defense, that sun is going to explode.”

“ _What?_ ” Aziraphale gasps, unable to hide his shock. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure, angel. Didn’t spend thousands of years making stars without learning what they look like when they go wrong.”

“Well Aspen neglected to mention _that_ ,” Donna quips. “Any idea how long Xyloa has?”

“They’ve got a countdown in the Council Chamber, but I’m not sure. It can’t be long now?” Malac replies.

“I’m pretty sure it’s days away,” Crowley adds. “But I’m struggling to keep a steady track of time at the moment.”

“I’m not surprised, my dear,” Aziraphale says, going back over to Crowley. “I can’t imagine what strain that device is putting your corporation through.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the demon replies through gritted teeth. “This machine is eating my magic – my life force.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, angel. When this device kills me – and believe me, it wants to – it will kill me for good.”

“You did all this,” Donna says, “to save a child? Knowing it would kill you?”

A vision strikes Aziraphale. A vision of Alya strapped to that horrible, horrible chair – crown tangled in her hair. A vision of Crowley rifling through wires, desperately hunting for an alternative. A vision of Crowley getting her out, cursing out the Council and Heaven in equal measure, and taking her place.

Crowley, who mourned the children of the flood, the innocents of Bethlehem, the orphans of the plague. A demon who could never stand to see a child cry.

Of course, he did.

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” Crowley asks simply in reply.

Donna rounds on the Doctor. “Well come on then! Get him out of there.”

The Doctor stares, rooted to the spot. He’s regarding the machine like he’s seen something like it before. Like he’s fought something like it before, and lost.

“It’s not as easy as that, Donna,” the Timelord replies.

“Not easy? It seems pretty blinking easy to me!”

“It’s _not_!” he snaps, but not out of anger. No – the emotion that rolls off the Doctor is complete and utter desperation. “Sometimes things happen that you can’t do anything about! And I _try_ , I try so hard and it’s not enough and I couldn’t _save_ her, Donna.” His voice cracks. “I couldn’t save her – and I don’t know if I can save Crowley now.”

He stops, breathing heavy – sits on the floor, head in his hands.

“Who couldn’t he save?” Aziraphale whispers.

Donna wipes something like a tear from her eye. “An archaeologist,” she says simply – as if that’s enough explanation for the Doctor’s outburst.

She sits next to her friend, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “But, Doctor – we have to try. We have to do something. Come on – don’t tell me this is why you’ve been off your game? I know I barely knew her, but I do know that she would never have wanted that.”

The Doctor exhales from behind his hands – an almost laugh.

“You now as well as I do that she would hate to see you like this,” she says softly.

He looks up at Donna with a small smile.

“You’re right, Donna,” he admits. “As usual, you’re absolutely right.”

She shrugs modestly. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to be,” she quips, somewhat less modestly.

The Doctor jumps up with a clap, and begins looking round the room – poking and prying and looking for options. He’s bursting with a restless energy; burning with a desire – no, a _need_ – to fix this. Aziraphale grins in delight. It feels, for the first time since this whole affair began, that the Doctor is back in the game.

“So!” he says, activating a screen with his sonic screwdriver. “What are our options? How about evacuation?”

“Ha! No _way_ ,” Malac replies. “The Council would never agree to that.”

The Doctor sighs, “Yeah – doesn’t seem like the kind of suggestion Aspen would take to that well, does it?”

“Well this is just a thought I’ve had,” Aziraphale hazards, “so tell me if it’s absolutely crazy, but could we not just… move Xyloa?”

“Move Xyloa?” Crowley asks incredulously. “Angel you’ve had some wild ideas in your time, but this one takes the cake. Move an entire planet?”

“Do you have any better ideas? One, single, better idea?” he retorts with a grin. Aziraphale can always tell when he’s being teased.

“I suppose _theoretically_ it’s possible,” the Doctor reasons. “But a bit extreme. Perhaps that’s a last resort.”

“Where would you put it, anyway?” Donna asks.

“Well,” Alya interrupts, “I’m pretty sure our best option is to get the Pulsifer Device working. Now that you’re here, surely there’s something that can be done?”

“Very good, Alya,” the Doctor compliments, dashing over to check out the machine. “Where do we start? What’s wrong with it – tell me.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it, as far as we can tell without testing it,” Malac explains. “We just don’t have enough power. They tried…”

“Tried?”

“You don’t want to know,” Crowley spits bitterly.

The Doctor’s face darkens. “No, I don’t want to know. Aziraphale, Crowley, is there anything _you_ can do about this?”

“Nope,” Crowley replies unhelpfully, popping the ‘p’ with what he thinks is a charming grin.

Aziraphale shakes his head. “The amount of power you all seem to think it would require – well, Crowley’s got barely any magic left, and it sounds like it would kill me. And I mean that – it wouldn’t just be an inconvenient discorporation.”

“Besides,” Crowley adds, “there’s no guarantee that it would be enough. Call me selfish, but I’m not prepared to sacrifice myself for anything less than certainty.”

“Says the man who sacrificed his freedom for my sister – a girl he barely knew,” Malac retorts with a slight smile.

Crowley squirms awkwardly, embarrassed at having been caught doing something thoroughly ‘undemonic’. “Yeah, well… knew this lot wouldn’t stop ‘til they found me. Took them a bit longer than expected.”

“Hey!” the Doctor says with a mock frown, sonicking the Pulsifer Device, “how were we supposed to know you lot were messing about with time?”

“You’re a Timelord,” Donna replies, “and you lot supposedly know everything.”

Alya giggles as the Doctor tries (and fails) to look completely affronted.

“These jokes are very nice and all, but can I come back to the point that this machine is killing me, and I’d like to think that getting me out of it should be a bit higher up the priority list right now.”

“Yes, of course,” the Doctor replies, pulling off a panel with an overdramatic grunt. “So, no to evacuation, no to the planet relocation scheme and no to angel power. What does that leave us?”

“Well,” Donna says, “we do have another source of power.”

“We do?” Aziraphale asks, astounded.

“Yeah – we came with it.”

The Doctor stops what he’s doing, smile replaced by something much more sombre.

“Well, yes – you’re right. Would it work though? Yes, I suppose it would but…”

“But what?”

“Well I suppose we _could_ use the heart of the TARDIS. But we would be stranded here.”

“No, wait – Doctor, that’s not –”

“And I’d give you all a lift back to Earth,” Malac offers brightly. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No, guys, wait – “ Donna tries again, but she goes unheard.

“A Timelord without a TARDIS… what an odd thing to be.”

“Doctor.”

“No, you’re right, Donna. We’ve come here with a huge power source – we should use it.”

“No, Doctor – please,” she pleads, but the Doctor is on a roll now.

“Let’s do it. She’ll go out with a bang – saving a planet.”

He’s about to dash out the room, but Donna abruptly stands in front of him. She grabs his upper arms and forces him to pay attention for once.

“Doctor! You’re not listening to me! We don’t need to use the TARDIS. That wasn’t what I was meant.”

The Doctor, for once, looks thoroughly lost.

Donna rolls her eyes and sighs, as if to say _Why do I have to do all the thinking around here?_ before pulling something from her pocket. Something red. Something sparkling.

The Calcyon Ruby.

She cocks her head with a sly smile. “Reckon this might work – you said it could power a solar system.”

The Doctor stares at her like she’s holding something unbelievably precious (well, she is), before an identical grin breaks out on his face. And for a moment it’s almost as though the universe narrows down to just the two of them – best friends until the bitter end. He scoops her up into a massive hug, unable to contain his joy.

“Oh, Donna – you genius! You utter, utter _genius!_ ”

“Well, I do my bit.”

They laugh in delight, the Doctor snatching the ruby from her grip and interfacing it with the Pulsifer Device.

“Hey, Aziraphale?” Crowley asks, leaning over to whisper to the angel.

Aziraphale leans closer. “What is it, my dear?"

“I mean I’m glad that Donna’s gone and saved the day again – quite frankly, I’d expect nothing less but…”

“But what?”

“Why _does_ Donna have a stone of unlimited power in her pocket? And why did no-one think to mention _that_ particular piece of information until now?”

Aziraphale laughs. _Really_ laughs. It’s a laugh of delight and a laugh of relief. Delight; to be reunited with his demon. Relief; that’s he’s finally safe.

“It’s a long story,” he manages to reply, caressing the demon’s cheek.

All of a sudden, the Pulsifer Device hums into life – bright pink lights twinkling wherever there is space.

“Yes – attaboy!” the Doctor cheers, giving the machine an approving pat on its top. “We’ve done it! It works!” 

The cover of the device slides open and a smaller object rises up. Its structure is crystalline, and it pulses with pink power from the Calcyon Ruby. The stone itself is set in the centre, glittering like the heart of a galaxy. The Doctor sets the new, improved Pulsifer Device on the floor with a satisfied grin.

“That’s better! Much more portable now.”

He swivels round to Malac, who is crying tears of joy with Alya.

“Malac, my boy – are you up for being the Council’s least favourite nuisance one last time?”

“Right now, I’m up for absolutely anything.”

“Good man! I want you to go up to the Chamber and tell Aspen and the rest of them to meet me on the steps in two minutes time – can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy replies with a mock salute, before running off to share the good news.

“Donna, Aziraphale – when I leave, give me two minutes before turning the time dilation device off.”

“How do we do that?” Aziraphale blusters.

The Doctor pulls out the sonic screwdriver and sets it before throwing it to Donna. “Just sonic it with that – then get upstairs as fast as you can.”

“What can I do?” Alya asks, looking up at the Doctor with wide eyes.

The Doctor smiles at her. “I’m very glad you asked that, Alya, because you see I need someone to push the button when we get upstairs. Do you think you can help me with that?”

The girl nods eagerly. He throws a pile of vines and wires into her arms and sends her on her way. The Doctor picks up the Pulsifer Device and starts to leave.

He pauses.

“Are you three going to be alright?”

Crowley scoffs, “Of course we are. We aren’t amateurs you know.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” He smiles, looks at the floor. “Oh and, Crowley.”

“What?”

The Doctor locks the demon in his gaze. “Thank you. For looking after these people in my place. You’ve saved their lives.”

A flurry of emotions flash across Crowley’s face, as he tries to come up with an appropriate answer. In the end he settles for, “Shut up,” before indicating with his head that the Doctor should hop to it. The Timelord disappears with a grin (and the Pulsifer Device).

Once he’s gone, Crowley allows himself to lean back in the chair with a deep sigh.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asks. “Are you in any pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, angel.”

Donna tuts. “That isn’t what he asked, and you know it.”

Crowley smiles up at the human. “Oh, Donna – I’ve missed you. But please, tell me, do you normally keep immensely powerful gemstones on your person, or did you make an exception today?”

Donna laughs, and begins to sonic around the device – searching out what needs switching off when the time comes.

“Only when I want to save a very dear friend,” she replies.

“Aww, it almost sounds like you missed me.”

She scoffs. “Can’t imagine why. You literally dragged me into Hell the first time we met.”

“I seem to recall that you laughed most of the way,” he protests.

“Most of the way _back_ ,” Aziraphale reminds, untangling some of the vines. “And I have to ask, my dear - the Pulsifer Device? Really?”

Crowley shrugs. “I had to think of a name. Seemed fitting. Figured neither Newt or Anathema would mind.”

Aziraphale laughs, moving the last of the creepers aside. “Have we given the Doctor enough time do you think?”

Donna checks her wrist (watchless, of course – when you have a time machine, what’s the point?) before shrugging and saying, “Yeah – I think he’s had more than enough.”

Donna and Aziraphale stand back as she buzzes the device. The vines lose their blue, pulsing light and the machine whistles as it shuts down. Crowley pulls the crown off his head and flings it to one side. He slumps abruptly to the left, as a tension Aziraphale hasn’t noticed rushes from his body.

“Crowley!” the angel cries, at the demon’s side immediately.

“‘M fine,” he protests, but Aziraphale is having none of it.

“No, you are not. You are in no fit state to walk right now.”

“Ok, give me a minute then,” Crowley replies, trying to stand. The movement must make him dizzy because he immediately sits down again. “Maybe five minutes.”

“Donna, help me,” Aziraphale instructs, looping one of Crowley’s arms around his shoulder. Donna does the same on the other side.

Crowley frowns, and tries to swat them away. “Don’t need help.”

“Don’t be silly, dear boy. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

They try to take a step, but it’s abundantly clear that they aren’t going to make very quick progress.

“You two go,” the demon says, attempting to extract himself from their grip. “I’ll stay here. Maybe take a nap.”

“No way,” Aziraphale says sternly. “We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

“Besides,” Donna adds, “you need to see this through, don’t you? After all you’ve done.”

Crowley laughs. “You always could see right through me, couldn’t you? Alright, yes I want to see it – but it would take a miracle to get us up there in time.”

“A miracle?” Aziraphale laughs, “I think I can manage _that_.”

The angel performs a quick gesture and all at once they’re back on the surface of Xyloa – more precisely, the steps to the Council Building. Aziraphale looks up and blinks against the harsh red light. Crowley stumbles on his feet slightly. Donna makes a funny noise.

“Alright there?” Crowley asks.

She shakes her head. “Is that what apparating is like? No wonder they always complained about it in those books. I feel sick – remind me to never do that again.”

Crowley looks at Aziraphale, somewhat lost.

“Harry Potter,” the angel replies, as if that’s any help at all. “I’m sorry, Donna. That kind of transportation can be rough the first few times.”

“Adam managed it without a fuss,” Crowley grumbles.

Aziraphale sighs. “He _was_ the Antichrist, my dear.”

Before Crowley can get in another retort, the Xyloan Council begins to stream out of the building. The Doctor is at the bottom of the stairs, frantically setting up the Pulsifer Device with Alya’s help. People have spotted the commotion and are gathering to get a closer look.

“Shall we head on down?” Donna asks.

“Yep,” Crowley replies. “But you can let go of me now – I think I can manage.”

Donna and Aziraphale untangle themselves from the demon, who - to his credit - manages to stay on his feet. Malac pushes through the crowd and runs down to meet the Doctor, the other three following suit.

“They’re here, Doctor,” the young man pants. “They’re all here.”

“Good work, Malac. Now, Alya, you know what to do?”

She nods, holding up the activator he’s handed her. The Doctor looks up and spots the other three standing there.

“You guys got here quick!”

Donna smirks, “Miraculously so.”

“I see. Well, seeing that you’re here, give me the sonic – that’s gonna speed things up.”

She passes it over, and he makes a few quick adjustments. Once he’s satisfied, he turns to Alya with a big grin.

“What do you say, Alya? Shall we save a planet?”

Alya smiles, “Yes, let’s!”

She presses the button. The Pulsifer Device hums into life, and starts to glow – pink at first, but then rising to blinding, blinding white, all the while crescendoing into an almost deafening whine. And then –

_Flash!_

A pulse of bright pink light, crackling like a firework, shoots up into the air.

The crowd around them falls back, gasping at the spectacle. They watch as the pulse climbs higher and higher, racing through the atmosphere. Malac moves to hold his sister. Donna winds her hand around the Doctor’s arm. They all watch as the pulse climbs higher still, until it vanishes – powering past the confines of the deep red sky.

“Was that it?” Aspen asks, squinting her eyes in a vain attempt to see further.

Crowley rounds on the First Mistress with a withering scowl. “Shut up, Aspen. It’s got to reach your sun first – it’s going to be ten minutes at _least_. But I thought _you_ would have known that as the leading expert in this whole affair.”

Aspen looks like she’s about to scold him for disrespect, but reconsiders it when she sees the fury in the demon’s eyes. She gives him a curt nod, and doesn’t say another word.

Aziraphale allows his hand to slip down and take Crowley’s. He puffs out a little sigh when Crowley laces their fingers together.

It’s honestly one of the longest ten minutes of Aziraphale’s life. There’s nothing to be done except look at the sky and _wait_. They say patience is a virtue, but this is unbearable. There are people all around them crying and praying. He wishes he could offer them comfort, but the words “It’s going to be alright,” feel like a heavy lie on his tongue.

Malac looks down at his watch.

“Ten minutes.”

A woman in the crowd bursts into a renewed fit of sobbing. A wave of despair rolls around the assembled people. Even Aspen hangs her head in despair.

And then, as though a filter has been pulled from a Snapchat picture, the red haze lifts. The people look up, spellbound. The sky is…

_Blue._

“Yes!” Alya shrieks, punching the air.

The moment is broken. People start shouting, _cheering_. There’s a lot of hugging, and even some kissing. The Doctor has Donna in his arms, and the pair of them are laughing in pure delight. Alya has managed to piggyback onto her older brother, and is waving the activator around in triumph. Aziraphale turns to Crowley, who wraps him up in a crushing hug.

“What’s this for?” Aziraphale asks, returning the demon’s affections.

“Been wanting to do that since you got here,” Crowley replies, mumbling into the angel’s shoulder, “but people have been in the way. I missed you so much.”

Aziraphale strokes the long red curls of Crowley’s hair. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Crowley’s arms snake even tighter around Aziraphale’s waist and he looks straight into the angel’s eyes. “Don’t you dare apologise. You’re here now – that’s more than enough.”

Aziraphale smiles.

There’s a noise like a violent wind all around them. They look up to see the plants, shuddering in the new blue light of the sky. The vines, the creepers, the branches are all moving to soak it up – sunhungry and lightstarved.

And all across the city, flowers of every hue begin to bloom.

 _Good morning,_ they seem to say, _Life begins today._

The planet is _alive_ again.

And an angel and a demon stand in the middle of it all, admiring this celebration of life. It’s exactly the same as the celebrations they’ve seen over the thousands of years spent on Earth yet somehow it’s completely different. Perhaps it’s the new ground below their feet, or maybe it’s the new sky above their heads, but this feeling is unlike anything they’ve ever felt before.

It feels like the start of something new.

Crowley collapses.

But this time, there’s an angel to catch him when he falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry - there's still more to come.
> 
> Also, I firmly believe that as soon as these four are in the same room they just mercilessly roast one another.
> 
> I highly recommend listening to Watching the Sky by Sheppard around the passage when the Pulsifer Device is activated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, you've saved the world - what's next on the agenda? Dinner, of course!

The next week is literal hell.

Well… maybe not _literal_ hell (after all, Aziraphale has sauntered in and out of there twice and lived to tell the tale) but it is certainly its own special kind of torture to watch Crowley lie motionless in a bed. The Doctor has assured him that Crowley is absolutely fine on a physical level; but his magic… well that’s been almost completely drained. He needs time to recover.

_But how much time?_

Aziraphale thinks back to the night after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t – how Crowley, upon stumbling into his flat, and pointing in the direction of the kettle, had face-planted the bed and slept soundly for the next five hours.

But holding a flaming Bentley together by sheer force of will and stopping time for a handful of minutes, whilst exhausting, was nothing compared to handing over one’s own lifeforce to a machine. Nothing at all.

The angel has kept a near-constant vigil over Crowley ever since they got him onto the TARDIS. He’s been talking to Crowley, telling him stories that he thinks he’ll like. Donna has been there too, telling stories of her own – keeping the pair of them company where she can. The Doctor has poked his head in a few times, but sitting still doesn’t appear to be his strong suit. Instead, he keeps busy tinkering with the TARDIS – they hear him hammering away at things in the distance

Aziraphale would still be there right now had Donna not insisted that he take a break, and _eat something, for goodness sake, Aziraphale you look like you’re about to keel over_. And Aziraphale, not wishing to risk the wrath of Donna, has gone to get something to eat. The kitchen was easy enough to find, and he helped himself to enough sweet treats to sink the Titanic.

But right now, he’s lost, trying to find his way back to Crowley’s room. He’s sure that he retraced his steps precisely, but the corridors all look so similar that he can’t be certain. The rooms certainly look different – there’s an arboretum, a swimming pool and even a library. The sight of a library would normally make him forget all his worries and dive in – today it only offers a small comfort.

He sighs.

He must be really upset.

Aziraphale takes another left and finds himself back in the console room. The Doctor is dashing about, as usual. Judging by the debris, he’s either taking something apart or putting it back together. He looks up from his work as the angel wanders in.

“Hey there, Aziraphale,” the Doctor greets with a smile. “How are you?”

Aziraphale sighs. “I’m tired,” he admits, “and I’m still very worried about Crowley.”

The Doctor picks up a screwdriver (non-sonic this time) and begins tinkering with the controls. “I get that,” he says, “but there’s really nothing that can be done except wait.”

“I know.”

“It’s hard.”

Aziraphale laughs, “I know that too.” The angel shakes his head with a fond grin, “I shouldn’t be quite so worried – this is hardly the longest he’s slept.”

“What’s the record?” the Doctor asks, frowning at a particularly difficult screw.

“He slept through the 19th Century.”

“He did _what_?”

Aziraphale’s explanation is left hanging on his lips as the devil himself stumbles into the control room. Well, it’s not the devil himself (he wouldn’t fit for starters), but it is Crowley. His eyes are wild and his hair is completely untamed. He ignores Aziraphale, and marches straight over to the Doctor – grabbing him by the lapels of his blazer.

“I want you to listen very carefully,” the demon instructs, “because I’m only going to say this once.”

The Doctor drops the screwdriver. “I’m all ears. Well, mostly ears. Well, not _mostly_ … I have two ears, and they are listening to you.”

Crowley takes a deep breath before announcing, “I need chicken nuggets, and I need them now.”

“Chicken nuggets?”

“Chicken nuggets.”

“Doctor!” Donna cries, running into the control room. “Doctor, I left Crowley’s room for a minute and now he’s gone – oh no, you found him, well done.” She stops to survey the scene for a moment. “Crowley – what are you doing?”

“He just waltzed in here demanding chicken nuggets,” Aziraphale explains.

The demon unfists his hands from the Doctor’s jacket.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “It was just very important that I told you that. Honestly, I haven’t been this hungry since Constantinople fell.”

The Doctor adjusts his jacket with a bemused expression. “But that was in 1453?”

“I said what I said.”

“Oh well, that doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter, is that I know a place. Hold on!”

The Doctor pulls a lever and the TARDIS abruptly pitches to the right. Crowley grabs hold of the console while Donna reaches a hand for Aziraphale.

“A little warning next time, Doctor!” the human scolds.

The Doctor flashes an innocent grin in her direction. “You love it!” he beams.

Donna just rolls her eyes.

Without waiting for the TARDIS to fully stop, the Doctor pulls on his coat and sprints out the door. The other three give each other a slightly exasperated shake of the head before giving chase. They run out of the door and into, well, nothing at all.

“Doctor!” Donna cries, grabbing a hold of the alien’s arm as she looks at the endless chasm of space beneath her feet.

Aziraphale looks down in wonder, watching myriads of stars drift around below the spot they’re standing on. Crowley, in true form, jumps up and down to test the strength of whatever it is that’s keeping them from falling into the void.

“Clever that,” the demon muses. “Suppose you don’t want your customers disappearing between the car park and the front door.”

“Car park?” Azirphale asks.

“Well, spaceship park doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so well, does it?” the Doctor replies, pointing at the rows and rows of vessels that line into the distance. “Maybe, parking lot?”

“I’m not _American_!” Aziraphale splutters, making Crowley laugh.

“How does that work then?” asks Donna, releasing the Doctor’s arm now she’s realized it’s perfectly safe.

The Doctor winks. “That would spoil the magic of it. Come on, let’s get something to eat – that’s why we’re here after all.”

‘Here’ turns out to be your typical American diner, complete with red and white awning, large windows and a colourful neon sign that reads ‘Tilliways’.

Aziraphale laughs. “So, Douglas Adams was nearly right then? There’s a _diner_ at the end of the universe.”

“What are you talking about, angel?”

“Oh, you remember. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? He said there was a restaurant at the end of the universe called _Milliways_. Guess he was almost right.”

“Well,” the Doctor replies, “Adams actually came up with all of that by himself. Absolutely brilliant guy – genius really. But in the 31st Century the radio plays reach the Zapod people, and they love it so much they decide to build their own _Milliways_ in honour of the author. They had a statue of Marvin in the car park and everything!”

“Had?”

“Wasn’t massively popular. Getting to the end of the universe is difficult at the best of times, and talking food can put even the strongest of stomachs off their dinner. Nah, _Milliways_ closed, but some entrepreneurial spirit decided to open this place!”

The Doctor flings the doors open and the four of them are immediately greeted by a sleek-looking robot.

“Hi and welcome to _Tilliways_. We may not be _Milliways_ , but at least the food doesn’t talk back! My name is Tilly-3 and I’ll be your server – what can I get for you today?”

“Chicken nuggets,” Crowley replies, “As many chicken nuggets as humanly possible.”

Tilly-3 giggles mechanically. “Of course, sir. If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll be over with the drinks menu.” And with that, their server zooms off to attend to another customer.

They squeeze themselves into a booth, crowding close on the red leather material of the seats. Tilly-3 arrives with the drinks menu, and a generous helping of fries which Crowley sequesters for himself (but not before Donna can swipe a handful) and hisses at anyone who tries to take them off him.

Once they’ve ordered they settle back and begin to catch each other up on everything that’s happened over the last few hours/months. To the untrained observer, this might seem to be a bizarre conversation, but a quick listen to the general hubbub of the diner reveals at least seven other equally impossible discussions taking place. Besides, an eavesdropper would struggle to hear anything over the jukebox that is merrily blasting out Earth’s Greatest Hits from the 20th Century (currently playing Soft Cell’s cover of _Tainted Love_ ).

The Doctor is halfway through regaling Crowley with the story of how the three of them, plus Zahariel and Azza, sauntered into Hacklymb’s complex when Tilly-3 arrives with their order. Crowley’s eyes widen in delight at the heaped plate of chicken nuggets, and immediately sets to dismantling the dish.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Tilly-3 asks.

“Nah, this is great – thank you,” Donna replies.

“Enjoy your meal!”

Tilly-3 zooms off again, barely avoiding tripping over a small child and it’s… tentacled pet. The four of them tuck in, feeling that for the first time since this whole affair began that things have sorted themselves out.

“There’s one thing I need to ask,” Crowley says, looking up from his meal.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale asks, concerned at the serious tone that Crowley has suddenly taken.

“Malac and Alya. What happened to them? Please don’t tell me you left them there.”

“Of course not!” Donna replies, almost shocked at the suggestion.

The Doctor nods, swallowing a mouthful of his extravagant dessert. “No way. We dropped them off on the Ferra homeworld. Two bright young minds like that will get on well there.”

Crowley smiles, “I’m glad.”

“They did,” Aziraphale admits, “ask us to say thank you. Alya wanted to stay until you woke up, but Malac told her that she’d be under our feet. We said that they wouldn’t be a problem, but I think Malac wanted to move on.”

Crowley smiles again, and he allows his hand to curl around Aziraphale’s.

“They’re gonna be absolutely fine, Crowley,” the Doctor says. “I’ve got a good feeling about that.”

“You’ve also got a time machine,” the demon retorts. “We can go and find out for ourselves.”

The Doctor is about to shoot back a witty reply when Donna frowns.

“What is it, Donna?”

“Are they playing _What’s New Pussycat_ again?” she asks.

“I thought that,” Aziraphale replies.

Crowley shrugs. “I just figured it was a really long song.”

The lights above them flicker. The Tilly servers all grind to a halt. The chatter of conversation starts to slow down.

“Doctor?”

“Hang on,” he says, pulling out the sonic screwdriver.

The buzz echoes around the diner as the music fades out. 

It’s dead quiet.

_Bam! Bam! What’s new pussycat?_

All at once, the Tilly servers begin to go crazy – spinning and zooming uncontrollably around the diner in time to Tom Jones’s 1960’s classic.

“Doctor! What’s going on?!” Donna yells.

“I don’t know!”

Crowley stands up, scooping up his plate of nuggets. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’m leaving, and I’m taking my chicken nuggets with me. See ya!”

And with that, he swaggers out of the diner, hopping and ducking through the confusion of Tilly’s and customers. Aziraphale, Donna and the Doctor all look at each other.

“It doesn’t seem like a major issue…” the Doctor admits, giving the place a once over with the sonic again.

“And I think the staff have got things under control,” Donna adds, pointing at the kitchen workers who now armed themselves with wooden chairs.

Aziraphale nods. “You’re quite right. I think it would be best if we got out of their way.”

They sit still for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter. They jump up, grab whatever they can carry, and sprint out after Crowley. They’ll read in the intergalactic news tomorrow that _Tillyways_ has shut down temporarily, pending investigation into the strange activities that took place there and how two little boys triggered a robot uprising by playing _What’s New Pussycat_ seven times in a row (plus one play of _It’s Not Unusual_ ).

But that will be nothing to do with them.

They’re still laughing when they fall into the TARDIS.

“Oh, that was so much fun,” Donna says, trying to catch her breath back.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale giggles, “that was very exhilarating. Did we leave a tip?”

“That’s what you can think about after all that, angel?”

“It would be wrong not to – who knows how much they get paid.”

“They’ll be fine, Aziraphale,” the Doctor replies, running his fingers along the control panel. “It will all be fine. Now – what’s next?”

Crowley flings himself onto the tiny couch (if it can be called that) attached to the railings and replies, “Home I think.”

“Or maybe…” Aziraphale says, “maybe one more trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a love letter to one of my favourite moments of stand up comedy of all time <3
> 
> I'm also incredibly disgruntled to discover that the Restaurant at the End of the Universe is like a 5-star establishment. I always imagined it as a greasy diner. So - I had to rectify that.
> 
> Let us also take a moment to remember 'Hyphen-with-a-three' from Orphan 55. Seeing Tilly-3 reminded me of that loveable, but short-lived character.
> 
> We're nearly at the end! I can't believe it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, the end of the adventure. But is that the end of the story?
> 
> Featuring amazing cover art by the incredible [Quandtuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quandtuniverse/pseuds/Quandtuniverse)!

Aziraphale suggests a picnic.

This, in and of itself, is not an odd request. Over the centuries, Crowley and Aziraphale have gone on many picnics together – historically under the pretense of thwarting wiles and averting blessings, but these days it’s just another way of enjoying each other’s company.

But this is a special picnic, and one they don’t even have to leave the TARDIS for. The angel whispers the location to the Doctor, who agrees with a smile, and requests that Donna finds a nice blanket for them to sit on.

“Why the secrecy, angel?” Crowley asks with a grin. “Not kidnapping me, are you?”

“Of course not, my dear,” he replies. “I just want you to enjoy the surprise.”

So, that’s how the four of them end up sitting on a picnic blanket, snacking on the remainders of their _Tilliways_ dinner as they orbit the twin stars of Alpha Centauri. Crowley and Donna are sat side-by-side in the doorway, legs dangling out into space. Crowley is waving his arms around, animatedly explaining how he designed this star system. Aziraphale and the Doctor sit further in, making the most of the last of the fries while the other two are distracted.

“Is it how you remembered?” Donna asks Crowley once he’s finished.

A bottle of wine, a favourite merlot, miracles itself into existence. Crowley takes a swig before passing it to Donna.

“Nothing stays the same. Ironically, that’s the one constant truth of the universe.”

“Oh stop,” she says, knocking back some of the wine. “You’re beginning to sound like him!”

The Doctor doesn’t even protest the accusation. He just nods, and continues eating.

“I thought you’d like it here,” Aziraphale says. “You wanted to come here together, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Crowley admits, “but, I kinda just meant you and me – not with these two goons in tow.”

“Oi! These two goons got your skinny arse off that planet, in case you forgot.”

“Something tells me I’m not going to be allowed to forget,” he replies with a smile.

Aziraphale adjusts his bowtie. “But we got here eventually?”

“Yes, we did, angel. Although, I reckon things worked out just fine. We didn’t need a date to Alpha Centauri, did we?”

“Oh, this is a _date_ is it?” the Doctor teases. “Donna, are we their _chaperones_?”

“I think we’re more of a taxi.”

“We’re third-wheeling!”

“Third and fourth-wheeling, Doctor.”

“That’s rich coming from you two,” Aziraphale splutters. “I’ve felt like a third wheel to your friendship since you landed outside the bookshop!”

The four of them laugh, loud and long. It’s good to be together. It’s good to be safe.

This feels like an ending, doesn’t it? Four friends, at the end of another epic adventure – trading stories and sharing laughter.

But this is not quite the end.

The universe is rarely so neat and tidy.

You see, there are these things called phones.

They’re marvellous things, phones. Invented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1876, the telephone revolutionised Earth communication, and bid farewell to the days of waiting. Whether this for good or for ill remains to be seen.

Of course, faster means of communication have existed in _space_ for much longer. Relays, translators and the occasional space pigeon have served many intergalactic communities well over the years. But there’s something enduring about phones; even angels and demons find a use for them (good for backchannel communication if that’s your kind of thing).

Everyone has a phone these days. Got to stay connected – got to be in touch.

The Doctor has a phone; two phones in fact. One he keeps on his console for friends to call in case they fancy a drink, need a hand with an alien invasion, or just a shoulder to cry on (oh boy, did Oscar Wilde need a shoulder to cry on).

The second phone doesn’t work.

That is not quite true.

The second phone is not _supposed_ to work.

_Ring, ring!_

But it does. On a handful of occasions.

_Ring, ring!_

This is one of them.

“Is that a phone ringing?” Crowley asks.

The Doctor looks around in confusion. The sound is not coming from the console.

“That’s unusual…”

“A phone ringing is hardly unusual, Doctor,” Aziraphale replies, swiping one of Crowley’s chicken nuggets whilst the demon is distracted. “I even have one in the bookshop.”

“It sounds like it’s coming from outside…” Crowley says, craning his neck to see if he can spot anything.

The Doctor stands up. “It’s not outside,” he replies.

The Timelord approaches the door, which Donna has helpfully propped open with a fire extinguisher. He pulls open the panel that reads ‘Police Telephone. Free for public use’ to reveal… a phone. He frowns at it.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Donna asks.

“Well,” he says, cocking his head to one side. “This phone isn’t connected. It’s only ever been activated once before…”

“By who?”

“A little boy looking for his mummy.”

“Be serious, Doctor!” she sighs with a roll of her eyes.

“I am! We found her. Took a while, the Blitz was on, but we did it.”

“So? Are you gonna answer it, or shall I?” Donna retorts.

The Doctor inhales and answers the phone. “Hello, this is the Doctor speaking. How can I help?”

There’s a short silence, followed by an indecipherable babble down the line.

“Amelia Earheart! Long-time no speak – how are you? Still flying that plane, I hope?”

The babbling starts up again, the Doctor listening intently.

Crowley points at Aziraphale. “I _told_ you that had nothing to do with me!”

Aziraphale holds his hands up in surrender, conceding all the times he had accused Crowley of the pilot’s disappearance.

“Yes, yes, I know I owe you one. Wait – really? No, no – we’ll come to you. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And, Amelia – if you haven’t tried it already, marshmallows covered in cayenne pepper powder might do the trick. Oh, you don’t have any? That’s fine we can bring some.”

He hangs up the phone and looks down at the other three.

“Sorry, that’s an emergency call. We’d best be off.”

They stand, looking at each other. None of them really want to say goodbye.

“We’ll drop you off at home, of course,” the Doctor offers. “We promise to visit again.”

“Sooner this time,” Donna adds, “if I have my way.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Aziraphale replies.

Only Crowley is silent, toeing at the grating with one snakeskin boot. There’s a grin toying at his lips.

“What is it?” Donna asks.

“Well,” he replies, “I was just thinking – one more adventure wouldn’t hurt, would it, angel?”

Aziraphale beams. “Really?”

“I just remember how much you prattled on about it when these two left last time. Best get it out of your system, eh? Besides – you always wanted to meet Amelia Earheart when she was alive. How often does the chance to meet a supposedly dead person come around?”

“More often than you think,” the Doctor mutters under his breath.

Donna laughs. “Totally selfless reasons for coming along, then?”

“Oh, don’t say things like that,” the demon replies with a fake shudder. “I’m a demon. I have a _reputation_.”

“Can they come, Doctor? Please?”

The Doctor grins. “An angel and a demon in the TARDIS? Why not! Welcome aboard, gents! Grab your things and let’s go!”

They slam the doors shut, and the engines stir into life. The TARDIS disappears with the sound of their laughter, leaving Alpha Centauri floating in graceful silence once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for your support on this! Your comments have been so wonderful and warm and it's been a joy to play in this universe again. As before, please feel free to do whatever you like with my words - fanfic, fanart and podfics are all highly encouraged!
> 
> Special thanks to the admins of the Good Omens Big Bang - without whom, this story would simply not exist.
> 
> And of course, massive thanks to the amazing [biteinsane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biteinsane/pseuds/biteinsane), [Quandtuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quandtuniverse/pseuds/Quandtuniverse) and [picnokinesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/picnokinesis) \- Team 043, we crushed it!


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